


Mortal Souls

by dhazellouise



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Time Travel, BDSM, Dark Hermione Granger, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fingerfucking, Hand Jobs, Manipulation, Oral Sex, Psychological Torture, Rough Sex, Sexual Content, Torture
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-01
Updated: 2016-02-27
Packaged: 2018-05-04 06:52:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 5
Words: 54,607
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5324660
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dhazellouise/pseuds/dhazellouise
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A pair of cursed bracelets brought them together. Two people from different time-lines and from totally opposite sides, bound together by fate and mortality. Their hatred for each other can neither tear their souls apart nor can they resist the lust which drives them to the brink of destruction.</p><p>"There is no dark and there is no light in magic. There is only power. The power to bring the world to heel, and it shall be done.. one step at a time."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Curse Bracelets

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original Author's Note: This is my first time writing a TR-HG story. However, I can guarantee that you won't be disappointed with the entire plot. I have great and very dark plans for this story..*insert evil laughter*. Just a heads up though. It's been a while since I've written any stories on this site. My writing 'skills' are a way bit rusty. Well, if you notice grammar error and mistakes please don't hesitate to point it out to me. Thank you…and please no flaming. but I accept constructive criticism.
> 
> This story is set one year after the final battle, where Hermione Granger attended her last year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. This is somewhat a Time-travel fic..but with a different twist to it.

**Disclaimer:** The characters belong to J.K. Rowling.

 **Warnings:** This story contains; coarse language, violence (torture and murder), blood and gore, explicit lemons and non-con. (Sorry. I don't have an AFF account yet.) This is going to be a very DARK fic. It's really not suited for those who are gentle at heart and for minors. So be warned.

 **Summary:** A pair of cursed bracelets brought them together. Two people from different time-lines and from totally opposite sides, bound together by fate and mortality. Their hatred for each other can neither tear their souls apart nor can they resist the lust which drives them to the brink of destruction.

_MUST KNOW_

*words written in:

 _Italic_ \- internal monologue

 **Bold** \- magical spells/ charms / curses

 _ **Bold and Italic**_ \- speaking in Parseltounge

* * *

* * *

**Year 1947**

**Borgin and Burke's**

Tom Marvolo Riddle was exasperated to say the least. Today was a very busy day for him since he had to charm and bargain with ten customers in the past eight hours. Most of them were men, and they weren't as easily fooled as the women who came to the shop. One of them ended up asking for Tom's manager.

Why you ask? Because the customer was being unreasonable with the price that Tom had set up. The tall foreigner was so insulted that Tom was forced to call his manager.

It didn't end well for Tom, as Caractacus Burke scolded him in front of the customer, who looked unconcerned with Tom's predicament. It was utterly humiliating and extremely vexing for him. He had considered murdering both the customer and the old man right then and there; but a particular memory stayed his hand.

He remembered the Aurors who came to the shop last month.

It had been four years ago when Tom had killed his father and grandparents. Even though the Aurors already had his uncle, Morfin Gaunt, under custody. They seemed to have the impression that Morfin Gaunt was not the one who had committed the crime, despite the fact that Morfin was a muggle-hating wizard, who had an altercation with certain young lord many years ago.

The Aurors had been there to ask about the murder of the Riddle Family, and it had come as a surprise to Tom that they had known about his relationship to the family. Everyone at Hogwarts knew that he was an orphan. He had made sure that no one knew about his connections to the Riddle family, but it seemed that someone had prior knowledge about it all. He was certain that it was the old fool, Albus Dumbledore.

Unfortunately for Dumbledore, Tom was nothing if not thorough when it came to cleaning after his..ugh…mess. The possibility of someone who would find out about Tom's involvement with some dead bodies was close to nil.

So when the Aurors had appeared at Borgin and Burkes and started asking questions, Tom had simply told a good-enough alibi to remove the suspicions off of him. He informed them that he had been with his 'friends', when the Riddle Family was murdered. Then, he had pretended to be distraught by the news to convince the Aurors of his innocence. To Tom's relief, they seemed to have accepted his alibi because they never returned after their visit.

Thus, Tom deliberately kept a low profile, mostly from the ever-nosy and suspicious Albus Dumbledore. For that reason alone, he couldn't jeopardize his cover even if he wanted to. Not at the moment anyway. Tom would just have to wait for the right time and make his move. Right now, he was still at the vital part of his plans. He really didn't want to ruin it. Even if it was against his pride.

"Tom, apologize to Mr. Volkovich." Caractacus Burke stated; his small, watery eyes darted towards the customer in fear before swivelling back to Tom. "You should know better than to treat the customers with disrespect."

Tom Riddle inwardly seethed; his eyes glinted dangerously as he noted the censure in the simpleton's voice.

However, on the outside, Tom merely plastered a genial smile that didn't reach his eyes as he said, "Of course, Mr. Burke," and then his eyes flickered into a murderous gleam as he fixed his dark, blue eyes at the frowning customer.

"I sincerely apologize for having offended you, Mr. Volkovich. It was never my intention to do so. I always treat my customers with the highest regards and sensitivity. I really do apologize if I acted any different towards you."

He finished saying. His fake, warm smile still in place when Mr. Burke turned his attention to the customer.

"You see? Tom is a good lad." The frightened shopkeeper squeaked. His eyes were bright and round with fear as he looked at the mysterious man.

Tom bristled at the statement. It was so typical for Mr. Burke to call him a 'good lad', like he was still a child, when in truth he was far from that. If only the imbecile knew how far Tom would go for the price of immortality. He was certain the stupid man would never ever think of Tom as being a 'good lad'. He mentally smirked.

"Hmn..." The costumer in crimson robes murmured, and was staring at Tom with an inscrutable expression on his patrician face. Not entirely agreeing or disagreeing to what Caractacus Burke was rambling about.

Tom hastily raised his mental shields up, wary of the foreign customer. He had a gut feeling that there was something dangerous about the wizard.

"He is new here." Mr. Burked explained, trying his best to placate the foreign customer. "He really didn't mean to offend you Mr. Volkovich. Tom here doesn't-"

The blonde-haired Bulgarian finally turned his attention to the small, and lesser man. Mr. Burke immediately cowered under the full-blast of Mr. Volkovich's glare.

"I don't want to hear any explanation Caractacus. I had wasted valuable time arguing with the boy for a better price of my bracelet." Mr. Volkovich shot Tom a fierce look, to which Tom countered with a convincingly contrite gaze.

The foreign wizard continued on. "I want this inconvenience, that the boy had brought, well-compensated. I'm selling this bracelet for 100 galleons—" Mr. Burke sputtered at the amount but Mr. Volkovich continued. "—and also in exchange for the orb that I asked last month."

"But—but—The bracelet you're selling is not even worth that amount!" The small man protested.

The Half-Bulgarian snarled.

"This bracelet is the rarest object that you can ever find Caractacus! Better than all the things that you're selling here combined!"

Inside his mind, Tom scoffed at the wizard's outrageous claim. He had seen the bracelet alright, and couldn't help but disagree. The bracelet was not beautiful. It was in fact, downright ghastly. Tom could hardly decipher the small engravings and the elaborate design that wove around the bracelet. Moulds, rusts and some disgusting-looking slime had accumulated on the small jewellery. Tom suspected that no one had worn nor touched the bracelet for centuries. Who would even want to buy such a repulsive artefact? - If even it was an ancient artefact to begin with.

But most of all, he couldn't even feel any trace of magic from the bracelet. There was nothing there to make the bracelet note-worthy. It was just a worthless muggle piece which deserved to be cast into the sea. It certainly wasn't worth the hundred galleons that the customer demanded. The wizard was a complete idiot to even think that he could deceive Tom - a future Dark Lord - into buying some hideous-looking bracelet. That was Volkovich's first mistake in underestimating Tom.

The Blonde man must have seen something on Tom's face because the Bulgarian was suddenly throwing daggers at him. Tom instantly schooled his features into an inscrutable mask while he met the wizard's glare unwaveringly.

The temperature in the room suddenly plummeted as his adversary rounded on him. Tom felt the dark and menacing aura coming from the other man, but he wasn't intimidated, or even scared in the least. In fact, he was becoming excited. His body was coiled tight in anticipation; prepared to do the inevitable bloodshed.

There was a strained silence when neither of them dared move or even said anything. Even Mr. Burke became silent, his eyes darted from Tom to the stranger, and back again in rapt attention.

"Do you have something to say to me, boy?"

Tom carefully watched the other man's eyes narrowed into slits as Volkovich questioned him. Nothing about this arrogant man fazed Tom. Nothing at all.

"No, Sir." Tom responded in a surprisingly pleasant voice. Not giving away his thoughts as he continued to mentally plot different ways to dispose Volkovich's body once their conversation was over. "I have nothing to say."

"I see." The Bulgarian murmured. His face drawn into a contemplative frown.

"You don't believe that this bracelet is highly valuable, do you?"

Tom could only raise a brow at the question, as if to say, "What do you think?" But nonetheless he remained unresponsive. There were a flash of irritation in the man's face, obviously disliking Tom's reaction - or lack thereof.

"Come here, boy." Volkovich suddenly ordered.

All at once, Tom could hear alarm bells going off in his mind. Adrenaline instantly rushed into his veins as he instinctively reached for his wand. But Mr. Burke stepped in before Tom could do some irreversible damage.

"Now, now Mr. Volkovich..I think the boy doesn't-" The small man started, but immediately stopped at the look on both Tom's and Volkovich's face.

 _"Fool!"_ Tom thought in vehemence, and silently watched in satisfaction as the Bulgarian's attention snapped back to the old man once again.

"You!" The wizard said in irritation. Mr. Burke nearly wet himself at the menacing aura that Volkovich emitted.

"I don't want to hear any of your nonsense, you pathetic excuse of a wizard!" Volkovich hissed angrily and he swiftly sent a non-verbal silencing charm at the whimpering wizard.

The blonde man then turned his grey eyes back to Tom, who had already drawn out his wand when Volkovich had been distracted. And at the sight of Tom's wand pointing at his chest, Volkovich merely arched a pale brow.

"I don't take kindly to a customer who assaults my manager, Mr. Volkovich," Tom said in a calm and quiet voice. His eyes never leaving the other man. "And most certainly not inside the premises."

In spite of his justified reason for having to draw out a wand at a customer; it wasn't only the reason that Tom had to resort to such drastic measure. He already felt threatened by Volkovich's presence. He honestly couldn't care less what would happen to his manager.

"Oh? Are you scared, boy?" Volkovich mocked while he pointed his wand at Tom.

"No." He coolly responded.

 _"Him? Scared?"_ Tom thought, an angry scowl marring his forehead. _"What utter nonsense!"_

As far as Tom was concerned, the only one who should be scared, was the foreign wizard.

Not Tom.

Never him.

Volkovich is going to SUFFER. SOON.

"Then you are a fool, boy."

Tom's eyes flashed red. The blood-lust inside him curdled in response to his rage.

 _"The arrogance of this man! How dare he speak to me like this?!"_ He thought furiously as he raised his wand. Ready to tear Volkovich from limb to limb with a string of dark curses, when his thoughts came to a screeching halt as an unexpected chuckle disrupted the tense atmosphere.

"We'll see about that."

Those words thundered ominously inside the shop, but that didn't warn Tom for what happened next. In a short fraction of a second, everything became a blur to him. He hadn't even blinked before he felt something heavy and cold wrapped around his wrist. He couldn't even remember crumbling to the floor as his body started twitching and jerking in agony, like a thousand cruciatus curses were aimed directly at him.

He couldn't recall screaming in pain, and all the while he like felt his soul was being ripped apart and then patched up again for what seemed like hours. Tears were freely streaming down his cheeks, which he hardly noticed, as he was consumed by the white-hot agony that wrapped around his entire being.

All the things around him became incoherent. The haunting laughter that came from the foreign man was drowned by Tom's torturous cries. Even the shouts from Mr. Burke - who was able to speak again - were ignored as he knelt down next to Tom; frantically trying to help him.

Tom could feel himself slipping into unconsciousness, but not before he heard Volkovich's last, and final word.

"Your pain has only begun, Tom Marvolo Riddle. You should have known better than to underestimate the Cursed Bracelet of Merlin."

Then, the foreign wizard vanished - as if he had finally accomplished what he came to do

It was two weeks later when Tom Riddle woke up from a coma. Caractacus Burke had brought him to St. Mungo's Hospital the night after Volkovich abrupt departure. Tom was already unconscious when the medi-witches examined him at the Hospital.

To Tom's dismay, his comatose state had caused some mild disturbance at the Hospital and the Ministry. Tom had baffled the medi-witches in St. Mungo's when they weren't able to identify the cause that had ultimately resulted to Tom's comatose state.

Even the curse-breakers from the Ministry were perplexed by his condition. They bestowed him so much unnecessary attention that Tom became cautious, especially after they had sent a muggle Doctor to examine him - to his utmost disgust. The muggle Doctor had yielded with the same results. However, the healers had only been able to verify that Tom was not suffering from any muggle-related medical diseases - which was a complete relief to Tom.

After they all had exhausted their resources on him, they had inferred that Tom had only suffered a short mental breakdown due to stress.

It was the most outrageous thing that Tom had ever heard! Tom had concluded that they were all idiots. He'd been in a coma for weeks, and that's all they came up with?! Because of stress?! That's completely absurd! They were lucky that Tom had reigned in his temper when they had explained it to him, because if he hadn't, most of those buffoons would have ended up in the Hospital or a morgue.

Soon after that, Tom was discharged from the Hospital a couple of days later. While everyone believed that he was fine, Tom thought differently. He was far from fine. Volkovich was out there somewhere, probably amused that he had incapacitated Tom for an entire month. Hence, Tom had spent most of his time machinating for Volkovich's demise, and finding the Slytherin locket and the other artefacts of the four founders.

By that time, Tom had already returned to work.

Caractacus had acted apologetic towards him when Tom was discharged from the hospital. Mr. Burke had allowed Tom a few days off before he could resumed his work. It was mainly because the insipid man hadn't revealed to anyone about Volkovich's involvement. Apparently, the Tom's manager was frightened of the Bulgarian.

Despite the fact that Volkovich was the reason Tom ended up in a coma, he was grateful that Caractacus hadn't spoken to anyone about Tom's injury, or Volkovich part in it. He really didn't want anyone tracing Volkovich's murder back to him.

As the months bled out into years, revenge was constantly present at the back of Tom's mind. There hadn't been a single day that Tom hadn't raged and schemed for vengeance, and he would make sure that Volkovich would pay in full.

At some point, Tom was so engrossed in his desire for vengeance and power that he had barely notice the changes. He had pursued the Slytherin locket and other artefacts with a single-minded determination that he had become blind to other things around him. Most importantly of the ancient bracelet on his wrist, which had become invisible and intangible when Volkovich had latched it on him.

It would take him years to realize that he had been carrying an ancient artefact that traced back to the 11th century. A cursed bracelet so powerful that no one dared touch it, except for an ancient family bequest with the task of protecting it by the first wizard - Merlin.

However, the bracelet wasn't the only one that existed.

In fact, Merlin had purposely made a pair. One for himself, and the other was for a witch.

The other cursed Bracelet was said to be given to Morgana le Fay - the first evil witch who brought forth destruction during the 11th Century, which plunged the era into the Dark Ages. With the help of the bracelets, Merlin was able to defeat Morgana...but in his quest to defeat her, Merlin had to sacrifice himself.

After Merlin's death, the Pendragon family was left with the purpose of guarding the bracelet.

But the other bracelet, Morgana's bracelet, was said to have vanished after her death.

In the myth, the people believed that Morgana's bracelet was lost in time... and could never be found again..

But they were wrong…

So terribly wrong…

* * *

**Year 1999**

**Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry**

A lone figure stood at the corner, trying to look as inconspicuous as possible while her chocolate, brown eyes were trained towards the revelry in front of her. A small smile tugging at the corners of her mouth as she watched two particular young men: a raven-haired man with glasses and a tall red-haired, who were both talking to Ginny Weasley and Neville Longbottom.

Harry Potter and Ronald Weasley were there to celebrate Hermione's graduation. Both of her best friend and boyfriend were proud of her achievement, and she was very happy to share her success with them. They had teased her incessantly for receiving numbers of awards but Hermione didn't mind. She was proud to say that she was one of the students who graduated with honours - a Valedictorian at that.

Letters of invitations from Ministry and other places still kept on coming via owl post. Precisely because Hermione had become a famous war-heroine - next to Harry and Ron. Apart from that, she was also one of the top students of Hogwarts. It was disconcerting to think that she was receiving a lot of attention from people she hadn't met or even heard of.

Hermione couldn't believe her success. After the fall of Lord Voldermort, she felt like she was still walking in a dream. Everything that had happened in the past felt surreal to her. Even after a year of peace, Hermione still felt a sense of being haunted. Maybe it was the after effects of war. Perhaps it was the so-called Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, which she often heard about from muggle doctors. But whatever it was, Hermione could not stop herself from constantly looking over her shoulder for an impending attack.

Hermione really didn't survive the war mentally unscathed because she still had nightmares. The torture that she had suffered from Bellatrix Lestrange had left a haunting echo in Hermione's sub-consciousness. Even the scar in her arm hadn't completely healed. The 'mudblood' word that the crazy woman had carved on her skin was faint but distinguishable. She really couldn't erased the mark if she wanted to, like the scars that she had received from Dolohov during her fifth year, and other faceless adversaries.

She couldn't truly escape from the horrors of war, which plagued her even until now. Hermione couldn't shake the slight paranoia that sometimes reared its head unexpectedly. She knew it was unreasonable for her to doubt Voldermort's death, but Hermione had felt an irrational edginess lately. A feeling that she was teetering in a precipice. One wrong move and her world would come crashing down.

She still wasn't safe at all. Paranoia or not, Hermione couldn't bring herself to truly enjoy the graduation party. As a silent observer standing in the corner, this provided Hermione a sense of security while she watched other people around her. It was better that way.

Hermione sighed and leaned back against the wall. She slid her hands against the silky material of her dress robes while she lost herself in her thoughts. She couldn't bring herself to go back to her friends. Not yet anyway when she was still shaken by what happened just a few minutes ago.

Earlier that night, Hermione had detached herself from her friends to go to the loo and fix her appearance. She had been looking at the mirror when she felt it - a presence lurking in the corner. After years of constant vigilance during Voldermort's reign of terror, Hermione didn't think twice in pulling out her wand and opened fire at the unforeseen entity. Her spell had hit the sink and it exploded. Water had erupted from the wreck, but there was nothing there. Hermione had then hurried out of the loo, extremely perturbed. She was sure that she saw a specter move before it disappeared.

The sense of unease she felt in that moment had gotten to her. Hermione wiped the cold sweat from her palms and straightened. There was no point in moping alone in the corner when she could just enjoy herself with her friends.

 _"Merlin, you're pathetic."_ Hermione mentally berated herself. _"Allowing your imagination to get to you like that? Idiot!"_

She tried to compose herself into a semblance of indifference. She wasn't going to be ruffled by what happened. It was illogical. So Hermione turned her attention to herself. She checked if there was any dirt on her dress robes, and then got herself momentarily distracted as she admired the fine clothes she wore.

Hermione was wearing a floaty emerald dress robes made of silk. The material was so thin that it failed to hide the curves underneath the robes. A ribbon was purposely added to the dress robes - to which she securely wrapped around her waist, where it flared to emphasize her hour-glass figure. Other than that, the front of the robes was open and low-cut, showing another dress underneath.

Without her dress robes, Hermione would have felt exposed. The dress that she wore underneath was made of the same silky material - but of virginal white in colour. Like her dress robes, the bodice was low-cut, showing a delectable amount of cleavage. The white silk clung to her figure; from her small waist, to the flare of her hips, to the swell of her bosom and the curve of her buttocks. The skirt widened as it reached mid-thigh, where layers of petticoats were sewn underneath that created the ballooning effect and ended just above her knees. And like her dress robes, a white ribbon was collaborated.

The design of the dress was exquisite. A silver and gold plate lace were trimmed and woven on the silk dress in complex designs of stars, moons and other constellations. It was a strapless dress that left nothing to the imagination, especially the back part where the curve of Hermione's spine was exposed. And to make matter worst, it didn't have any zipper or buttons, the only thing that prevented the dress from falling down was through magic.

Indeed, the dress was a piece of work, which Ginny had chosen for her - to Hermione's chagrin and dismay. Ginny had forced her to wear it for that occasion alone since the red-haired witch had bought the dress as a graduation gift for her. She didn't have the heart to decline it.

Hermione sighed as she turned her attention to her hair, but she decided not to check on it. She really didn't need to after she just came out from the loo. She had already seen herself in the mirror and remembered that her hair was still in place, with her chestnut brown curls left to cascade in thick tendrils down her back and shoulder.

She had allowed her hair to grow just below her shoulder that year, and she had spent a considerable amount of time making it look glossy that day. She didn't really care about how she looked. Hence, when she had tried to fix her hair into a tameable mass that very morning, she had concluded that growing her hair to that length had been impractical.

As for her appearance, Hermione had preferred to make it simple and not overly dramatic. Thus, she had opted for a mascara and a thin eyeliner to emphasize the colour of her eyes. While a smudge of red lipstick - which she gently wiped out with a napkin - and a lip gloss, made her lips look plump and inviting. Then, she had worn a pair of silver earrings, which was given to her by her mother a long time ago. And finally, she wore a simple one-inch stilettos as her footwear. It wasn't as impressive like the rest of her attire, but Hermione had considered it fit for the occasion, even after Ginny had protested.

When Hermione had stood in the mirror that afternoon, she had felt like she was looking at a stranger. In the mirror, she couldn't see the little girl with bushy brown hair and buck-tooth teeth anymore, but a young woman in full-bloom.

At the age of twenty, Hermione Granger had truly grown into a fine-young woman. The moment she had stepped out of her room. Everyone had agreed. She was no longer plain, but a woman with an exquisite beauty. Her boyfriend, Ronald Weasley, had simply gaped at Hermione for a long time that she had to forcefully close her boyfriend's mouth, before he choke on a fly.

Hermione chuckled as she recalled Ron's reaction to her appearance. It was priceless. Although, they've been dating for a year, Ron and her still had their squabbles. Sometimes Ron comments were directed at her appearance. And she just loved rendering Ron speechless every time she transformed herself in occasions like these. Her boyfriend was just adorable.

Hermione couldn't stop the fond smile from curving her mouth while her eyes immediately sought out the person that was currently on her mind. She saw her boyfriend still standing beside Harry. After successfully composing herself together, she decided to join her two best friends. She was about to make her way towards them, when a familiar voice stopped her on her tracks.

"Hello, Hermione."

Jerking her head towards the voice; Hermione's gaze landed on Luna Lovegood.

''Congratulations on your Graduation." The blonde girl said, smiling softly.

"Thank you, Luna." Hermione replied, returning the smile. She watched as the blonde came to a halt in front of her. "How have you been?"

"Wonderful." Luna stated simply. She had a dreamy look on her blue eyes while she twirled a lock of hair in her index finger. "My father and I had just returned from a trip in Ireland. I helped him with his research on a cave that appeared there two months ago."

Hermione couldn't help but grin at the blonde-haired girl, finally noticing the pair of mushroom earrings dangling from the girl's ears. It's been almost a year since she last saw Luna Lovegood. But still her eccentric friend never ceased to make Hermione smile with just the sight of her.

"That sounds interesting, Luna." She replied, still eyeing the earrings. "And very mysterious indeed, for caves to appear all of a sudden."

"Oh it was." Luna said wistfully, her eyes becoming distant, probably recalling the sight of the cave. "My father and I were inside the cave when we discovered something."

"Really? What was it?" Hermione asked distractedly, eyes darting back to her two best friends, who were still talking to Neville and Ginny. Too busy to pay any attention to her.

Hermione inwardly groaned.

Luna Lovegood was a nice girl and her friend, but sometimes Hermione wasn't really interested in talking about things that don't exist, or anything weird at the moment.

"We saw some colourful stones inside the cave and some unknown scripts carved on the walls." Luna informed her.

 _"Surely, Luna is referring to stalagmites or stalactites that are commonly found in limestone caves?"_ Hermione wondered. The stones sometimes appeared to have different colours and even glow.

With a sigh, Hermione decided to indulge her odd friend.

"What does the stones look like, Luna?" She queried while she tried to curb down her scepticism about this 'mysterious cave'. "Do they hang up from the cave ceilings or rise up from the ground like icicles?"

Instead of answering, Luna peered up at her for what seemed like a few seconds, before she said.

"I know you wouldn't easily believe me, Hermione." Luna said seriously; her pale, blue eyes gleaming. "That's why I brought one as a graduation gift to you."

Hermione's brows shot up in astonishment.

 _"A gift from Luna?"_ She thought, instantly beginning to feel apprehensive _. "Hmn…that's completely…unexpected."_

She eyed Luna critically. Something about the blonde gave off a sense of wrongness, but Hermione dismissed the feeling, and blamed it on her paranoia.

"Well…Thank you, Luna…but you shouldn't have." She said uncertainly. "I never really imagined that you would give—"

She stopped mid-sentence, when Luna reached into her robes and took out her 'gift'.

Hermione silently gaped at the object on Luna's palm.

"I discovered this while we were inside the cave." Luna explained softly as she handed the object to Hermione, who mutely accepted it. "Somehow it had broken apart from the rest of the rock formation. I asked my father if I could give it to you and he said yes. What do you think, Hermione?"

Hermione was speechless as she gazed at the object on her hand. It was a colourful stone, as what Luna said, but it wasn't a part of a stalagmite or stalactite which she initially thought.

The object on Hermione's hand was made from a variation of crystal stone. It shone brilliantly, like a piece of jewellery. It was beautiful, and otherworldly. However, the thing that drew Hermione's attention was not the stone, but the fuzzy object inside it.

"What's that thing inside?" Hermione asked, looking closely at the indistinct shape inside the brilliant stone.

"I don't know." Luna mumbled while her eyes were trained at something above Hermione's head. It was clear to Hermione that the eccentric blonde had probably seen her favourite non-existent creature, like the wrackspurt.

"Do you mind if I take a look?" Hermione asked, pulling out her wand. She really didn't want to destroy the stone but the niggling curiosity was getting the better out of her.

"Hmn..." Luna murmured absentmindedly. Still staring at something behind Hermione.

Not waiting for Luna to address her properly, Hermione pointed her wand at the stone.

 **"Expulso!** "

The stone in Hermione's hand exploded into tiny fragments, revealing the object inside.

It glinted in the light and Hermione breathed in wonder.

"It's a bracelet!" Hermione exclaimed and examined the bracelet closely. It was made of gold with an intricate flowery pattern. There were also small inscriptions carved in the golden vines that wrapped around the bracelet. She caressed the inscriptions delicately and gasped when it suddenly glowed blue.

"It's glowing! Do you think this is a magical bracelet, Luna?" She asked in excitement, intently inspecting the inscriptions. "I can't be sure but these look like runes…but I haven't seen these kinds before..."

She trailed off, frowning at the glowing inscriptions.

"I don't see anything." Luna suddenly said, who had turned to Hermione the moment she heard the brunette exclaimed. "I don't see any bracelet, Hermione."

"Really?" Hermione said, disbelief colouring her voice. "But I'm holding it right now. See?"

She brought the bracelet closer to Luna's face, but the blonde-haired witch couldn't seem to see it, as her dreamy, blue eyes just stared blankly at Hermione's opened hand.

"I'm sorry, Hermione...but I don't really see the bracelet." Luna's face took on an apologetic look as she met Hermione's expectant eyes.

Hermione mutely stared back at her, completely flabbergasted. This was starting to feel weird. Here was Luna Lovegood - whom everyone considered as an oddity; and Hermione Granger - the logical one - was now trying to convince Luna about the invisible bracelet on her hand.

Something about this situation was putting Hermione on edge.

Luna's eyes turned distant once again, as if considering something.

"Perhaps you should try wearing it." She suggested softly. "It might be one of those bracelets that will appear visible once you wear it."

Hermione merely assessed her for a moment, until she silently nodded in agreement. She really didn't know if Luna Lovegood was telling the truth about the bracelet. Hermione couldn't find any reason why Luna would lie to her. So she dismissed her suspicion since she understood Luna well enough to even think that the dreamy-eyed girl would harm her, or make a fool out of her in any way.

Hermione inspected the bracelet in her hand, looking for that little latch she saw earlier. When she finally found it, she brought the bracelet close to her right wrist, and then momentarily hesitated. It looked harmless enough when she touched it. It even emitted warmth after she had ran her fingers along the inscriptions. The bracelet looked brand new. No doubt that the crystal stone had protected the bracelet from erosion or outside interference. That's why it gave an impression that it hadn't been worn before. So what's the harm in wearing it?

The instant the clasp closed and the bracelet securely wrapped around Hermione's wrist; she was immediately blinded by a brilliant, white light. She had to cover her face as it seared right through her retinas at the sight of it. And then, the noise from the party, unexpectedly disappeared; followed by an eerie silence that made her prickle with unease - a silence so deafening that she could hear the pounding in her veins.

With Hermione still momentarily blind, she had trouble registering what was happening around her. Not until she felt the ground vanished from right under her feet, and herself being sucked by some unknown force, that Hermione started to scream. However, no sound came out to break the silence.

With her arms flailing wildly, Hermione descended into the pitch-black darkness below her.

And then, there was nothing...

* * *

**Year 1952**

**Albania**

The forest was cloaked in darkness. Even the light of the moon couldn't penetrate the thick foliage of the forest. Only the creatures of the night - which lived in the forest - were able to see through the darkness. A cool breeze danced through the trees, rustling leaves along the way, and startling small preys.

In the middle of the woodland, there stood a modest cottage, surrounded by richly coloured floras and thickets. Up above the roofs, a plume of smoke rose up from the used chimney, while lights streamed from the curtained windows. And to add to the cosy environment, there was an old swing just outside the front porch - a perfect place to sit down and drink some hot chocolate during the cold season.

To an outsider, it looked like an ideal home. However, the eeriness that encroached the area, said otherwise that there was something far darker and sinister that lived there. There was also that unnatural silence and stillness in the air, which hung around the humble abode. Animals and small creatures alike seemed to skitter away from that area in instinctual fear. Probably frightened by an unusual predator that dominated in that patch of land.

Inside the cottage, a man sat down on a sofa; his long legs propped up on a coffee table while his arms were folded in front of him. The man had perfectly combed, thick, black hair; though, there were some rebellious strands which curled around his ears and his forehead; some might even say were made for an endearing sight.

This particular individual had pale skin; a straight and long nose; cheek bones that were prominent; and a strong, masculine jaw. And his mouth - his mouth was perfect. A perfectly sculpted lips with a thin upper-lip and a full lower-lip; lips that were currently pursed in disdain. But the only physical feature that stood out more so on his devastatingly, handsome face, was the beautiful pair of glinting, cobalt-blue eyes beneath thick, masculine brows - brows that were drawn into a frown.

At a ripe age of twenty-six, Tom Marvolo Riddle was an extremely handsome man in his prime. Even when his features where set in apparent displeasure.

The crackling sound of the fire was suddenly interrupted by a hiss. The man on the sofa, ran his hand through his hair in sheer frustration.

Whatever the reason behind the action, it must have been too much for Tom, because he suddenly leapt to his feet and started pacing over the carpeted floor like a caged animal.

It has been five years since Tom last saw Volkovich. FIVE. TIRING. YEARS of searching for the foreign wizard and the historical artefacts that he needed to create his horcruxes. FIVE. BLOODY. YEARS of hard work lost without him realizing that his efforts had been for naught. He couldn't care less about Volkovich's whereabouts at the moment, when he had been having problems in creating the horcruxes.

Imagine Tom's surprise when he had tried making another horcrux two weeks ago, and only to fail because there was something entirely wrong with him.

His entire soul had remained whole after he had performed the ritual. He had yielded nothing after days upon days of unerring ritual to create the horcruxes. He had switched from one object to another, but it had generated no results. Fate must really hate him because that hadn't been the only surprise in store for Tom.

No, it hadn't been the only one.

He had felt so defeated after days of subsequent failures that he had forgotten to check the horcrux that he had created years ago. The first horcrux contained in the Gaunt ring. And when Tom had finally examined it a week ago, he had almost completely lost his sanity.

He discovered that the Gaunt ring no longer held his horcrux; which the Riddle family paid the prize.

Tom had no idea what happened to it. He was certain that no one had destroyed the horcrux inside the ring, because he had worn it for the past five years. It was hard to believe, that the piece of his soul to have simply vanished like a puff of smoke. Of course, this left Tom reasonably enraged.

The ring had become worthless like the rest of the relics that Tom had obtained through the years. He had done everything he could to get what he wanted. And he was already THAT close to achieving his immortality.

He had done a lot of unforgivable things in his life that could make Dumbledore's beard curl. He had killed Hepzibah Smith to take the Slytherin locket and the Hufflepuff cup; framed a house elf and his uncle for the murders that they didn't commit; stole the Gaunt Ring after he murdered the Riddle Family during his sixth year at Hogwarts, and then murdered some more along his way.

Tom had left a trail of dead bodies behind him, and then came to Albania to create another horcrux.

 _"But for what?!"_ Tom mentally growled; his lips curled in distaste.

And with a sudden roar of pure, unprecedented rage, the entire room erupted into chaos. The windows broke in a shower of glass; the fire that kindled in the fireplace rose so high that the flames licked the ceiling; the sofa and the table were thrown haphazardly across the room, while everything else just simply disintegrated.

Dark magic crackled in the air while Tom continued to unleash his rage. His eyes had a red tint to it as the room turned into a vortex of whirling furniture, debris and unadulterated magic. Despite the danger of being hit by a stray projectile, Tom remained unperturbed by the havoc that he had wreaked around his humble cottage.

Well, that was as normal as it got for one furious Dark Lord. Tom had raged and destroyed half of the cabin the first time he had failed his ritual, but then fixed it again once he had calmed down. And today was no better than the last couple of days, wherein Tom had spent most of his time starting a forest fire, uprooting trees, destroying boulders and killing wild animals. Tom had left a mark of total devastation in his wake. However, he hadn't stopped there. He had almost destroyed his cottage as well, until he realized that he didn't have a comfortable place to sleep anymore.

It was half an hour later when Tom finally calmed down. He looked at the extent of destruction that he had created, yet it didn't give him the satisfaction that he expected. And thus, with a wave of his wand, he set the living room back to its original state. Within minutes, everything was back in place. He then sat back down on the sofa and stared at the flames in the fireplace, like nothing had happened just a short while ago.

Tom sighed while he stretched himself on the sofa, his head rested on the armchair. He felt tired all of a sudden. Probably because he hadn't slept for the past consecutive days.

 _"Maybe I should rest."_ Tom considered as he moved an arm to cover his face; his eyes fluttering shut. _"There's really nothing I could do at the moment."_

Tom Riddle couldn't look more human in that instance; with his arm curled almost protectively over his stomach, while his long legs were lazily stretched before him. The front of his shirt was half opened, exposing his collar bone and a tantalizing view of his masculine chest. His shirt tails - untucked and wrinkled - were strewn messily about his waist. He was also wearing a pair of black trousers with matching black socks.

It was disquieting to think that the man in the sofa was the future Dark Lord.

How could that be? When he looked like any ordinary man his age? Most especially with his dark, good looks and his lazy demeanour in that moment. It wasn't a surprise that the Wizarding World didn't see what was coming to them.

Tom Marvolo Riddle was really a force to be reckoned with.

But there was another person that everyone had underestimated, who turned out to be the greatest witch of her time.

A muggleborn witch.

And a certain Dark Lord didn't see what was coming for him, until it was right in his face.

* * *

It was half-past three in the morning - as what the clock indicated above the fireplace - when she simply came to existence.

There was no blinding light to accompany her sudden appearance in the room. Not even a whisper of a sound to announce her arrival to the inhabitant, who was still sleeping in the sofa.

Hermione Jean Granger seemed to simply materialize out of thin air in the year 1952.

She was still unconscious when she shimmered into existence. Her body curled in the floor, next to the sofa where the other occupant of the room was still dozing off. Both still unaware of each other's presence.

It was half an hour later when Hermione started to regain consciousness. A soft groan escaping from her parted lips while she slowly opened her eyes. Her chocolate brown orbs instantly adjusting to the lighting of the room. Immediately, she surveyed her new environment and committed everything to memory.

Hermione noted that she was lying in a lush, carpeted floor. In front of her was a coffee table and a big fireplace, where a welcoming fire blazed at the grate. While behind her, she could feel a lumpy furniture, which she presumed was the sofa.

After her quick survey of the room, it dawned on Hermione that she was in a place unfamiliar to her. It was certainly not the place where her friends resided. The temperature around the room was nearly freezing, even with the fire still blazing at the hearth. She couldn't help but shiver slightly at the cold.

Hermione deduced that she was not anywhere near Hogwarts castle, or even in England for that matter. It had been spring season in England the last time she checked. This sudden drop in climate temperature was an indication that Hermione was somewhere else. Hopefully, she wasn't transported far away from home.

She sat up carefully from her curled, almost foetal position on the floor. Her limbs were still stiff as she propped herself up on her elbows; her muscles protesting at the sudden movement. For a while, she waited for the pins and needles to gradually fade, before she could finally sit upright. As she did so, her gaze immediately caught sight of a figure lying down on the sofa.

Hermione froze instantly. Her brown eyes widened in surprise as she openly gaped at the individual, who continued to sleep soundly.

It was a man she had never seen in her entire life. And said man had messy, black locks - which quickly reminded her of Harry. Hermione also had to admit that he was rather handsome. He had a face that looked like it was carved from a fine, pale marble. And he was sleeping so fitfully that Hermione didn't dare make a sound.

 _"He looked like a sleeping, dark angel in that position."_ Hermione thought as she continued to stare at him shamelessly.

If Hermione didn't really know Harry Potter like she did, she would have mistaken the figure as her best friend at a first glace. Although Harry wasn't as good-looking as the man sleeping in front of her, but the man could definitely pass as one of Harry's blood-relative.

 _"Yes, definitely."_ She surmised. _"This man could even pass as Harry's long, lost brother."_

And at the thought of her dark-haired friend, Hermione let out a strained sigh. She wondered whether her two best friends had already noticed her disappearance; but knowing them, they probably did, and would have started looking for her without hesitation.

Perhaps she should make a quick escape before the man could wake up. Hermione considered this, for she didn't really want to find out what the man would do to her once he saw her inside his house. And judging by the magical traces that lingered in the room, the man in front of her was definitely someone powerful…and even possibly dangerous?

If that's the case, Hermione certainly didn't want to go toe-to-toe with the stranger.

She was so deep in thought that Hermione failed to notice the miniscule movement underneath the man's eyelids; a strong indication that he was about to wake up. It was not until the man's long, lashes fluttered open and a pair of breathtakingly, cobalt-blue eyes peered at her, did Hermione realized that the stranger on the sofa was finally awake.

Hermione could only stare at him in silent horror. She should have made an escape while she had the chance, but she had been so distracted that she missed her only window of opportunity.

She didn't realize she was in trouble until it was too late.

* * *

Tom must have dozed off because he was suddenly brought up from his sleep by a sound close to him. He was sure that it wasn't his own breathing that he heard, because it sounded suspiciously like a feminine sigh.

The moment Tom opened his eyes, his gaze immediately clashed into a pair of curious, brown eyes coming from a woman, who sat on the floor. For a few seconds, Tom stared blankly at her; uncertain if he was dreaming or having one of those hallucinations that conjured up scantily-clad women in his heavily-warded cottage. That, or there was, in fact, a woman sitting just a foot from him.

 _"It must be the lack of sleep."_ Tom decided as he closed his eyes and rubbed a hand over his face.

 _"There couldn't possibly be someone —"_ He sat up, his eyes slowly opening.

 _"-_ _ _in my_ cottage..." _Tom's thoughts trailed off at the sight that greeted him once again.

The woman - who he had thought was just a figment of his imagination - was still there, peering up at him with her big, brown eyes.

Briefly, Tom pondered if he had actually lost his mind, because never in his twenty-six-years of life had he seen a woman so out of place like this woman before him. She wore scandalous clothes that he couldn't help but openly ogle at her, even if it was unseemly of him to do so.

Tom seriously hadn't expected this-this oddity at all. His mind was a swirling mess of thoughts as he eventually considered the ramifications of such a strange woman appearing inside his cottage—his cottage which were both unplottable and protected by different high-level wards that were specifically keyed to his magical signature. Therefore, there was not a chance that someone could forcibly enter his cottage, and not get incinerated in the process by his active wards.

 _"So how come she was able to pass through my wards?"_ Tom's eyes narrowed, his hand twitching for his wand. _"And why was she even here in the first place?"_

This mysterious woman - with unknown origin and intention - was an intruder, and a possible threat to his person. The woman knew how to dismantle his wards without him knowing about it...which could only mean one thing…

She must be powerful…

And could prove to be more dangerous..

After he had finally drawn this conclusion, Tom's instinct took over. Within a few seconds, he had his wand in his hand, ready to cast one of his most favourite unforgivable curses. His eyes glinted in an unholy light as he took aim. But before he could even release the curse and cause his intended target a great deal of pain.

The woman said something that completely dumbfounded him.

"Err…Hi?"

* * *

**To be continued….**

* * *

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And oh, by the way, I'm using British English and not American English. So perhaps you might notice the difference in spellings that you thought was wrong.


	2. The Reflective Wound

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "A wound that is not an ordinary wound....because when she has it, he has it as well. It was a reflective wound."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: The characters belong to J.K. Rowling.
> 
> Warnings: story contains; coarse language, violence (torture and murder), blood and gore, explicit lemons (Sorry. I don't have an AFF account yet.) This is going to be a very DARK fic. It's really not suited for those who are gentle at heart and for minors.
> 
> Author's note: Hello guys! Sorry for the late update! I was supposed to update on Wednesday, but then I kept getting sidetracked and the this chapter just grew, and grew. It was supposed to be around 7k words (so that I can update this story pretty soon), but then it just grew into this length. (16,875 words). Perhaps in the next chapter, I will write around 7k words. I also want to apologize for the grammar mistakes. I'm using British English, so you might notice different spellings. Apart from that, I suck in tenses, so you might see a lot of mistakes in that area. I hope you will forgive me for that. I'm still not a good writer. I still need improvement. Anyways, I hope you enjoy this chapter, and please don't forget to leave me your feedback, especially now because I believe there are a lot of things happening in this chapter that might leave you confused. I'm also confuse with it...ahahaha...kidding
> 
> MUST KNOW
> 
> *words written in:
> 
> Italic - internal monologue
> 
> Bold - magical spells/ charms / curses
> 
> Bold and Italic - speaking in Parseltounge

 

* * *

_**Year 1952** _

_**Albania** _

" _Shit! Shit! Shit!"_ were the words that repeated in Hermione's mind the instant she watched the man pulled out his wand and pointed at her, while his eyes glinted with malicious intent. And Hermione knew right then, that she was going to be at the receiving end of that wand, if she didn't do anything about the situation.

She opened her mouth, ready to explain, when she realized she didn't completely understand why she end up there in the first place. So instead, what came out was this:

"Err….Hi?"

There was an awkward pause…wherein, Hermione proceeded to mentally banged herself on the head at her poor choice of words.

She could almost hear the crickets in the background while the man stood there, completely stunned. Not quite sure what to make of her.

But she tried to rectify it immediately, by saying, "No, wait. I can ex-." But she wasn't able to finish as the man finally recovered from his stunned silence. With his wand still pointed at her, she could feel the magic gathering at the tip of his wand before a red light shot out towards her.

Being shot at while sitting down - and at a point blank range – put Hermione at a terrible disadvantage. She didn't have enough room to manoeuvre and escape the attack. Yet her body moved on its own sooner than she could even think.

The red light impacted on the carpeted floor; just a second after Hermione swiftly rolled out of the way, where she promptly collided against the coffee table. Her heart was pounding loudly in her ears as she lay there, shocked at the suddenness of the attack. She caught sight of the scorch mark on the carpeted floor, where she had been a moment ago, and was not surprised to see that it was smoking. Her wide gaze immediately snapped back to her attacker, who turned to her with his wand pointing with another shot ready.

This time, Hermione understood that the man had no intention of hearing her out first. To the man, she was a threat, and must be immobilized at once, before he could interrogate her for some answers. Hermione could understand his type of reasoning, but the thought of being at the mercy of this stranger, didn't set well with Hermione. Not at all. With that dark, menacing aura currently pressing against her, Hermione made her decision. Surrendering to him – which could mean being incapacitated and disarmed by him - was out of the question. However, she could always try to talk some sense into him IF she got the chance.

It was either that, or she fights back.

Hermione pick the latter as a yellow light sprouted from the man's wand and came rushing towards her. She didn't know if it was the adrenaline pumping in her veins, or she had somehow performed a wandless magic, after she had flipped and chucked the coffee table towards the oncoming shot like it weight nothing. That, or she was just imagining things. She wondered as she watched the table sailed with a surprising speed to block the yellow missile mid-way, where she knew ropes would instantly wrap around the furniture a second after.

But Hermione was already on the move before the scene played out. Her wand dropped into her hand from her wand holster while she launched herself to her feet. The man had been surprised by her unconventional use of the table that he failed to intercept Hermione from scrambling away. By the time the man rounded on her once again, she had already put a good distance between them, her wand drawn and aimed towards his chest.

Her attacker eyed her wand for a moment before sizing her up.

"You are quiet nimble for a witch," The dark-haired man remarked, his glacial blue eyes finally meeting her gaze after he completely finish his assessment. "And the touch of wandless magic was also unexpected…So, tell me. Are you.. perhaps..a trained assassin sent to kill me? Did Volkovich sent you here to finish his job?"

Hermione could only stare at him blankly. Not entirely understanding why the man suddenly thought that she was an assassin.

" _Ha?.. Who? Wha-? Did I hear him correctly? Did he just ask me if I was there to assassinate him? Where did he even get that idea? And who, in merlin's beard, was he and this Volkovich person?"_ A bunch of questions went through Hermione's mind as she mulled over the man's statement. Judging from the man's words, he must have had a lot of enemies to start thinking in that way. Hermione knew that she could have easily been mistaken for a burglar - even with the unusual dress - but instead, he had instantly assumed that she was there to kill him.

Either he really had an enemy who wanted him dead, or he was just a paranoid man. Hermione surmised.

But that's not the only reason why Hermione's mind seemed to be firing-up a dozen thoughts at once. How would you convince someone who was obviously certain in their assumptions? Because there was no doubt that the man wouldn't believe her once Hermione told him the truth. No matter how much she would try to convince him otherwise.

Yet Hermione decided to try anyway. She concluded that it's better to resolve this situation peacefully, before it could escalate into further violence. The possibility of dodging potential attacks while running on her heels, was not an ideal scenario that Hermione wanted to happen.

"No, I'm not an assassin sent by this man you called Volkovich." Hermione said carefully as she unflinchingly looked into the man's cobalt-blue eyes. "I know this is going to be hard to believe, but I honestly ended up here by some kind of accident, and that's the truth. If I was here to assassinate you, you would have already been dead while you were still sleeping. And do you think a highly-trained assassin would have thought it practical to dress like this?" She gestured at her attire. The man's eyes followed where she indicated; his eyes lingered a few seconds longer than necessary.

Hermione inwardly bristled at that, but decided not say anything. Although, she found it a little odd that the man appraised her like he had never seen a woman dressed like her before - which was just ridiculous.

"So please put your wand down and let's talk." Hermione interrupted with a snap, which immediately drew the man's eyes back to hers. He looked angry at her tone.

Hermione ignored that look. "I know you are a reasonable man, and I would prefer that we can talk this out before someone seriously gets hurt."

"I don't believe you." The wizard said, his lips pursed in displeasure. "And who are you to order me around inside my cottage?" He demanded, glaring. "If you were smart, you could have told me better than that blatant lie you said to me just now. Because no one in their right mind would have actually believed in that utter nonsense. You said that you ended up in here because of some accident?" He asked, disbelief colouring his voice.

Hermione knew her explanation sounded so incredibly far-fetched even to her, but it was indeed the truth. The man just had to be open-minded to accept that, which he clearly wasn't.

"Don't take me for a fool." The man told her, his face set in a fierce glower. "Even a blind man could have sense that lie a mile away. Now, you better start telling me the truth, or suffer the consequence."

Fear crawled up Hermione's spine when she heard the promise of violence and blood in his voice. Her skin prickled as the air around them crackled with that familiar trace of raw, dark magic that she detected earlier.

She knew that the wizard was not making idle threats. And for this reason alone, Hermione had to choose her next words carefully. She reckoned that he would not take too kindly if she fabricated a lie. Her presence there was already suspicious enough to warrant a physical altercation between them.

Therefore, she should try to convince him in other means, such as the use of her memories and thoughts. Mentally, Hermione grimaced for even considering it as an option, but this was as good as any to prove that she was being honest. She just hoped that this wouldn't come back to bite her in the end.

"Look," She began, her throat feeling slightly dry. She had to swallow before continuing. "If you don't believe me, you can always try looking into my mind. You can see for yourself that I'm not lying."

Her suggestion sent her heart thumping erratically in her chest as she waited for the man to follow through with it; already imagining her mind being ripped apart by her potential attacker. Even though this didn't bode well for Hermione, she had to do it.

She half expected him to attack her mind with legillemens right then and there, but it seemed the man was too cautious to even try. A part of Hermione was a little disappointed that he didn't do it, while another part of her was vastly relieved that he didn't.

Legillimens could have solve her current dilemma if the man could just picked up her surface thoughts. She had already prepared some projected images for him to analyse - which could prove that she wasn't there for some nefarious purpose. This method could have certainly put the man's mind at ease. But he seemed to think differently, because the dark wizard remained motionless as he scrutinized her. His lack of action raised Hermione's guard up, she could almost read what the man was thinking as he continued to survey her with that cold, calculating look.

Hermione knew that look. She even had one herself. And every time she donned that mask, it was always when she was trying to decipher a complex puzzle, or a deep mystery that she found quiet challenging. The man was no different from her. To him, she was a puzzle; an unknown piece that he couldn't fit in any category; an unpredictable element that put him on high alert and second guessing his next move.

This she knew, because her mind had also descended into that cold and logical part of her. The part where her mind discarded all her emotional responses and focused more on the analytical side. It was also this cold mask that often saved Hermione's life since her fifth-year, and gave her the confidence to overcome any odds against her. With this in mind, Hermione allowed herself to enter that part of her mind as she assessed her opponent.

She was certain that it would be soon when the man would start testing her for possible weakness. Hermione could deduce that his high sense of caution was the effect after he had underestimated her earlier. Her move with the coffee table, her speed and agility had surprised him – even Hermione had been shocked at herself. She had never expected herself to use wandless magic and move like a highly-experienced battle witch. And because of this, her adversary had to re-evaluate his next tactic in detaining her. Hermione could only pray that her opponent wouldn't be as brilliant as she was when it comes to battle strategy.

Be that as it may, Hermione was still clearly at a disadvantage here. She was in an uncharted territory with a topography and climate she had yet to determine. An unfamiliar place that would be hard to navigate without someone helping her. If she had escape early on, she wouldn't be able to find her way home that easily, especially in such harsher climes.

Moreover, based on the data that she had gathered and analysed during their confrontation earlier, the wizard was capable of using low-level spells to a certain degree of magnitude. This could potentially cost more damage than Hermione could predict. While his speed was above average, but he was not as fast as she was - and nor as flexible. His recuperation time in between spells was approximately six seconds, but he had been distracted at that time that Hermione could only speculate.

The exact number and the speed of his spells that the man could dispense, either consequently or simultaneously, was what Hermione needed to watch out for. Or it would end up as the deciding factor in their inevitable match – a possible wild card he had yet to show.

Statistically-speaking, Hermione had a 35% chance of winning in her current circumstance.

Nevertheless, she did collated sufficient information to turn the tide against him. Other than the speed of his attack, Hermione was able to gauge his level of mastery. He was capable of using non-verbal spells while there was a great chance that he could use wandless magic, but it seemed unlikely, for he would have done it already.

Overall, the man's threat level remained a mystery to her, which was why Hermione decided to stay - and if possible - talked things out with him while she made silent observations. She wouldn't be able to do this if she had escaped earlier, and if she did, she would have gone blind and left her back open for his attack.

Thus, Hermione was determined to decelerate the mounting tension in the room in a non-confrontational manner, or this could prove disastrous for her.

As all of this things ran through her mind in a short time, Hermione's demeanour had changed drastically. She gradually felt oddly calm after she had donned her cold, calculating façade.

Hermione had to play her cards right for her to win.

"I'm willing to let you read my mind," Hermione offered calmly, leaving no room for misunderstandings on the other end. "I'm willing to do this so long as you don't dig any deeper than my surface thoughts and the memories that I will project. And as long as you do it slowly."

After she said this, the wizard seemed to consider her words carefully, his wand still leveled towards her as they stood there in their silent standoff. They had been in an impasse for five minutes now. How long they could continue to remain like that was indefinite at this point. But it was unmistakable to anyone that there was a silent war raging on between two intelligent opponents.

And after a moment of deliberation, the impassive man eventually replied.

"I don't see the reason why I should do that," He countered sharply, his eyes dark with mistrust. "This could be some kind of trap that you had set up in case you failed in whatever mission you are sent to do. A contingency plan perhaps?" He wondered out loud, his eyes shrewd.

Hermione opened her mouth to deny his completely absurd accusations, but she wasn't given the chance to do so as the man continued to loudly speculate.

"Or perhaps you might even be one of those occult members that could fabricate false memories at will? Then, if that's that case, you plan to utilize that skill to your advantage. Indeed, it is a brilliant plan to convince me into trusting you through this method. And once you have lured me into a false sense of security with whatever wrong information you have created, that's when you will attack and finish what you came here to do…am I correct?"

Once again, Hermione wasn't able to answer. The man had rapidly fired questions after questions at her that she failed to answer them immediately. But he wasn't even finished yet.

"Is that the reason you are so adamant into letting me enter your mind?" He queried, arching his brow. "Because normally, legillemency is often used to pry vital information from the minds of your enemies. You, on the other hand, don't seemed to follow this rule. I have never encountered an opponent who is willing to share their memories and thoughts just to prove their innocence." He stated while he regarded her thoughtfully. Hermione met his blue-eyed stare. "Unless of course, you are very naïve to think that an enemy of yours wouldn't easily take advantage of your willing mind?"

Hermione forced herself not to flush at that. He was correct in that particular assumption, but she wasn't going to admit it to him. However, she also had something prepared for him if he tried to do just that. She hoped her face didn't betray her thoughts away as the man continued to scrutinize her. Because her naivety was still - in some sense - her possible weakness that she didn't want the man to exploit.

Fortunately, the man easily dismissed that train of thought, and immediately launched into talking himself hoarse.

"I, for one, would have done it. There's no sense in completely taking advantage of what is willingly offered." At his words, Hermione's face paled slightly, already imagining the possible scenarios that could have occurred, and the images she got left a bad taste in her mouth.

"Since, I highly doubt that you are naïve to even consider that." The man went on and regarded her in a way that made her hackles rose. "You particularly don't look like it."

Hermione seriously contemplated about wiping that arrogant smirk off his face when she caught the hidden insult in his last statement.

"I can only assume that you are here based from my previous assumptions, and I must say that your plans are nearly sound… Well, except the part that I have seen right through it." The man looked at her, smirking smugly while he finally finished the longest, one-sided conversation that Hermione had the misfortune to ever participate in.

This significant break would allow her the opportunity to speak at last. And Hermione didn't hesitate to start her side of conversation with an insult.

"Oh, you are done already?" Hermione said impudently. "I was beginning to think—"

Even before she could finish, the man had taken a step forward at her insolent words; his face hardening into that familiar, fierce glower. On the confines of her mind, Hermione froze in terror as she felt the trickle of his raw magic abruptly unleashed on her. It felt like she was trapped in a raging blizzard with the harsh coldness it brought. The impassive demeanour she displayed nearly crumpled at the onslaught of it, but Hermione held on to it tightly.

"I suggest you start explaining your presence here, or you will end up splattered across my walls." He warned her ominously.

The image that his words evoked made Hermione want to turn tail and run. Nevertheless, her apathetic face held on. Now was not the right time to panic - or anytime for that matter - while she was finally given the opportunity to talk.

Gradually, Hermione forced her heart to calm down. On the outside, she exhibited that perfect, stoic calm; while on the inside, Hermione was reduce to a pile of nerves, which wouldn't help her in this situation. She needed all her wits with her to try and out manoeuvre her opponent who had a mind similar to her own. She would have to use her adversary's theories to give her the edge. He had overestimated Hermione, and she was going to use that for her benefit. Even though the thought of it was just amusing.

"As much as I am pleased and grateful at the fact that you have stopped underestimating me." She began while taking a step back, a necessary precaution for what would follow. A bait to force his hand. "However, the exaggerating amount of theories that you came up with has left to be desired. And mainly due to this, I now doubt your sanity. Ergo, the use of legillimency is now out of the question."

The man's hand tightened around his wand while his lips were drawn into a tight line. Righteous indignation written all over his visage at her statement. But he didn't do more than that, even after she had insulted his intelligence - or rather – his lack of sanity.

Her adversary was so predictable after she had baited him.

Now, if that's the case, Hermione could only deduce that the confrontation between them was unavoidable - give or take a minute or two - she could predict that the room would dissolve into a battleground. Hermione started mentally counting to keep herself calm. She usually did this to keep her mind purely methodical, and to prevent herself from descending into a full-blown panic.

" _One minute and forty-five seconds prior to enemy engagement."_ She counted in her mind.

"Believe me, Sir. I'm not here for whatever reasons you suspect." She said to him conversationally, as if they were sitting down and having tea, and not standing up with their wands drawn and ready to fire. "If I were, we wouldn't certainly be having this pleasant conversation right now."

Hermione had already changed her mind in trying to convince him - since her attempts earlier were moot. Therefore, escaping unharmed would be her next priority.

" _One minute and thirty-five seconds."_

"And truthfully? I don't have that particular skillset you mentioned." She continued, her mind already a whir of thoughts and images as she formulated her plan to escape. "Neither am I an assassin…or a member of those secretive occult group. I don't quite understand what made you assumed that I was both."

As predicted, the wizard in front of her dispense his all-too-familiar spiel of insane theories.

"No matter, whether you are both or not. It still doesn't change the fact that you barged into my cottage undetected." He responded, changing his stance.

" _One minute and twenty seconds."_

"You didn't even get incinerated by my high-level wards that I have set up around the perimeter." The wizard told her, she could detect both the disappointment and confusion in his tone - disappointed that she didn't die more like. "And this wouldn't be possible unless, you have somehow purposely dismantled my complex warding system around the area. Apart from that, you just happen to be near me when I was still in a vulnerable state. Even possibly about to eliminate me right before I woke up, which lead me to conclude that you were there for that purpose alone. Because there are no other possibilities to point out that you weren't going to do it otherwise."

" _One minute and ten seconds."_ Hermione continued her count while she listened to the man's litany of short-sighted deduction. Eventually, an escape plan solidified in her mind.

"And if you happened to notice, this cottage is in the middle of a forest. An isolated place, and very hard to navigate at this time of hour. With the lack of evidence to support your claims, I strongly doubt that you came here by accident. Therefore, I suggest you to surrender willingly and allow me to find the truth on my own, and see if my slippery nemesis - Volkovich, was involved in this endeavour, or perhaps some unknown enemy that I have yet to meet. If you are willing to do this, then I will give you a reasonable doubt. I am asking you this because from what I had gathered, you would rather prefer to avoid physical confrontation like what happened fifteen minutes ago."

The man ultimately finished - which was a complete relief to Hermione. Begrudgingly, Hermione had to acknowledge that some of his explanation did make sense. However, he was so assured of his intelligence that he failed to see the minor details, such as the instance when Hermione had been sitting down when he had woken up, or the tiny detail where she could have killed him when he had been staring at her rather stupidly.

He probably ignored those details in favour of the conclusion that he had drawn, which he seemed to be convince was the absolute truth. Of course, he couldn't be more wrong. His overconfidence on his power of deduction was beyond laughable. If Hermione didn't know any better, he would have already signed his own death warrant with that obvious oversight.

" _Fifty-five seconds prior to enemy engagement."_

Nonetheless, she still wouldn't be willing to surrender to him. Not unless he would allow her to keep her wand, and all of her limbs free from restraints.

She didn't know how much longer she could keep herself in that same duel stance. However, she need to focus more on her surroundings. She had less than a minute before she could make a move, and Hermione was going to use that remaining time to map out the area in her mind while she kept her enemy distracted.

The dark-haired wizard stood patiently waiting for her response. The lack of any expression on his face was enough to make Hermione wary. This shift in his bearing could either mean that he was being his usual indifferent self, or he was about to do something...

Not good.

" _Forty-five seconds."_

"And if I accept this, what will stop you from killing me, or perhaps exacting whatever evil retribution you can concoct?" She asked, her eyes astutely surveying the interior of the room.

The nearest possible escape she had was the door to her left, which she suppose was the bedroom. While there were other two doorways that stood behind her opponent; the open threshold was probably the kitchen area, and the door further from her was the door to the outside. Hermione would have a hard time reaching the latter door. She knew that she could always blast the wall behind her, but she couldn't do that with her back turned to her enemy. Hence, she had to make do with what was closer to her.

She also searched the room for any clues that would indicate her current location. But she found none. There were no newspaper articles lying about. It was discouraging, but Hermione would try to look in the other room when she would have the chance.

" _Thirty seconds left."_

"There is no need to worry about that. If you so desire, we can take part on a wizarding oath to ensure your safety…and mine as well." The man replied at last, interrupting Hermione from her quick perusal of the room.

She met his eyes, and knew right then that he hadn't miss her scanning the room.

"And while under this oath, would you allow me to use my wand?" She asked him, already knowing the answer to that.

"I'm afraid not. You see, I rather feel unsafe if I allow you to roam freely in my cottage while still wielding a weapon that could potentially cause me bodily harm. You are already dangerous as it is without it, as evidence with your unexpected use of wandless magic prior. So, no. I would not allow you to keep your wand, even when you can wield magic without it."

" _Ten seconds remaining."_

"I see…I understand." Hermione said softly, pretending to be resigned to her fate. Her eyes remained locked into the man's cobalt-blue eyes. She could hazard a guess what the man was planning. She knew where this might lead to, but she was going to play along. The wizarding oath was just a pretence to draw Hermione closer to him and lower her guard.

"So I can only assume that you would be immobilizing me indefinitely while under interrogation, am I correct?"

" _NINE."_ Hermione thought. _"I will probably slow the countdown at this point."_

"Yes."

"Would it be too forward of me to ask, if you could reconsider?" Hermione asked, her voice dripped with too much sweetness that it could give someone a toothache, while she looked at him underneath fluttering lashes.

There was a pregnant silence as the man scrutinized her slowly, before giving her a blinding smile that didn't reach his eyes. It was full of teeth - all razor sharp and cold. The devil's smile.

Two could play this game.

" _EIGHT."_

"Of course, I wouldn't mind reconsidering it." He replied, still showing her that fake smile, which made Hermione want to hex him right then and there. "Perhaps I would allow you more freedom in mobility. However, in regards to your wand, I'm afraid you would have to relinquish your wand to me..."

" _SEVEN."_

"I know… and I understand the conditions that you have set. I'm very thankful that you even reconsidered it." She replied, plastering a smile of her own, but she did let some warmth seeped into her eyes to make it seemed real. As she did so, Hermione noticed the man momentarily pause, his eyes fixed on her face.

And for some odd reason, Hermione's heart skipped a beat at that blue-eyed stare - which was just impossible under the circumstance.

They both stared at each other, unaware of something else stirring in the air.

" _SIX."_

"Then, I accept your conditions." Hermione stated while trying to understand why her heart seemed to do some strange palpitations.

And while she was too focused on herself, Hermione missed the expression of surprise that fleeted through her opponent's eyes, before it abruptly disappeared – as if surprised that Hermione had even accepted the terms. He didn't know of course that Hermione was playing with him.

"So, shall we perform the wizarding oath?" She queried abruptly, trying to dispel that odd tension in the air.

"Certainly," was the man's brusque response. "But first, we need each other's name."

" _FIVE."_

Hermione could only stare at him.

"We can't perform the oath without the proper formalities." He explained to her.

Of course, she knew that. She was just waiting for him to provide his name before she could give hers. Her count down was almost over. It was time for her to enact her plans.

"Oh..right. So, may I ask your name?" Hermione inquired, her tone almost rude.

" _FOUR."_

The man inspected her for a moment. He evidently didn't believe her when she didn't know his identity. It wasn't an act of course.

And in a dispassionate voice, he answered.

"My name is Thomas…Thomas Weatherby."

" _Liar."_ Hermione thought.

There was pause as the dark-haired man surveyed her for her reaction. Hermione's face remained perfectly blank.

"And you are?" Her enemy asked.

" _THREE."_

Hermione pretended to hesitate for a second, when in actuality she was already preparing to flee. She felt a creeping coldness enveloped her, pulling her into that different level of clarity which could only mean one thing… She was gearing for battle as adrenaline flooded her senses.

The man noticed it of course and his eyes narrowed instantly.

" _TWO."_

Without warning, the room shifted. Raw and powerful magic flooded across the room from two opposing forces. The atmosphere so taut with potent tension that even the dust particles had stilled in the air.

Yet the two magic users remained unmoving… waiting for the pin to drop.

The battle of intellect was at an end.

Now, it was time to test their mettle.

" _ONE."_

"I am…" Hermione began, her perception sharpening, her eyes flashing with resolve as her mind settled into that eerily calm state prior to battle.

"No one."

And as sparks flew out from the crackling fire, the two opponents moved. In a span of a second, everything seemed to happen at once.

No more pleasantries – or equivalent to it - were exchanged as they simultaneously burst into action. Already having expended their time in analysing - or to some, overanalysing - the strength of their adversary. Wands were slashing through the air faster than a lightning bolt as the room turned into a battle ground.

And sure enough, as he shouted **"Stupefy!"** at the same time she shouted.

**"Experlliarmus!"**

Hermione immediately ducked from the stunning spell, where it hit the wall and directly left a scorch mark from the power behind it. She caught sight of the malevolent look on her opponent's face as he sent another spell at her. Not giving her room to regain her momentum.

**"Reducto!"**

She knew that the man was testing her, trying to gauge the estimated time of her spellcast and the level of her speed.

And Hermione didn't disappoint as she moved swiftly. She pivoted on the spot - after she decided not to use a shield charm to block the attack. Instead, she evaded it. Her small form gave her the advantage to be light on her feet as she became a blur of shape and sound.

The wood splintered behind her as it was blasted by the strong reducto curse. The force of it nearly knocked her off her feet while she felt some of the splinters cut through her dress and skin. She hadn't even stopped spinning when Hermione fired her spell. Her skirt flared out at her fast movement, where it showed a good portion of her creamy-white legs.

Unknown to Hermione, her opponent significantly paused at the sight, which gave Hermione a few seconds to bounce back.

As a red light blossomed from her wand, Hermione then finally broke down and ran. She ran further from the man's firing range and into the nearest escape route. As she was running, she felt the rush of raw magic shooting towards her. And without a moment's thought, she tucked in and rolled. The sound of wood splintering and breaking glass was the only indication that the man had missed a hairsbreadth away.

Perhaps it could be blame on Hermione's unconventional spinning, it had been enough to cost her enemy to missed most of his shots.

If she wasn't fighting at the moment, Hermione would have felt grateful that she had taken a dance lessons during the summer. The lessons had improve her agility and made her physically fit that she wasn't even out of breath as she ended up rolling on the floor and shortly launching to her feet again, barely avoiding the two unknown curses coming towards her. The shield that she had cast disintegrated at the impact. Fortunately, Hermione was fast and was able to avoid the blue fire that raced towards her.

Something about his attacks made Hermione wonder if her evasion tactics were truly pissing the man off because Hermione hadn't even started with her spellwork yet, and he already felt positively murderous towards her. Or was it something else that angered him? She noticed that he had been distracted at one point.

The scent of smoke engulfed the room as the blue fire spread, eating away the walls, floors and everything on its path, but her adversary dispelled it before it could reach him. And judging from the ferocious look on his face, he was about to unleash another one of those dark spells from his repertoire.

For some reason that look reminded her of the pale-faced man - the death eater who tried to kill her just a month after the final battle. During that time, Hermione had been hopeless that she nearly died from the attack. He was one of the few stragglers from the dark side, who had been murdering muggleborns left and right. Hermione, however, was the only one who had survived the attacks. Mainly because she had ended up killing the death eater instead, by using a spell that she promised to never use again.

The reminder of that man was enough to destabilize Hermione. Nonetheless, she was still able to think straight as a rush of spells barrelled towards her.

" _Bloody Hell!_ " Hermione inwardly cried out as she scurried, and almost tripped over broken glasses and destroyed furniture while she made a strong shield charm around herself. Yet the spells that the man had sent were still too strong.

One scarlet spell broke through her shield and continued rushing towards her.

"Damn!"

She ducked while she forced herself into that familiar battle calm, and was relieved when she was able to call on it

" _It's time for a distraction."_ Hermione thought as cold clarity settled in, and at the same time, her mind started working rapidly.

She knew that her adversary was still trying to read the extent of her skills. So, Hermione might as well use that as a distraction, and show him that she wasn't an easy person to be trifled with. She was done with defending and evading. Now, it was time to be on the offense.

It didn't take a second for Hermione to start firing.

" _Incarcerous!"_ A jet of yellow light went straight towards her opponent, but she didn't wait for the spell to hit its target. She didn't break her momentum as she sent another spell towards the man. One after the other.

" _Diffindo! Petrificus Totalus! Immobulus!"_ She shouted in her mind while spell after spell burst out from her wand in variety of colours - and all were cast non-verbally, which was a perfect strategy to keep opponents guessing on the spellcasting. The same strategy that her adversary had used on her first.

And Hermione savoured her moment of triumph at the look of astonishment that flashed over the man's face, which soon darkened into one unadulterated fury. Her enemy deflected her first shot, and then immediately snapped a strong shield in front of him, where the last two of her spells collided against it.

" _Yes, I'm faster than you in dispensing spells simultaneously in seconds, you egotistic bastard!"_ Hermione mentally growled, replaying the sight of the man's astonished face to her utmost satisfaction. She sent another strings of spells to keep him on the defence. Spell after spell flew rapidly from her wand, and her opponent had no choice but to bear it down under his shield charm.

While her attack had distracted the man, Hermione took this time to dive into the open door, where she had guess the bedroom was. Her reflexes were so precise and swift that it could have made her two best friends proud. And in that instance, Hermione could feel nothing but cold logic ruling her every move - and something else. It felt like her veins were injected by a hundred years of battle experience that she hadn't acquired. Something that was just impossible…

Other than that, there was also that part that could toe the line between morality and dishonour, the part who would choose to kill, or be killed in the process. This was what disturbed Hermione, because that part hadn't been this strong previously - although she vaguely recalled it to be strong at THAT time…However, this incredible feeling - and perhaps the mind-set - would give her an edge in this battle. Hence, Hermione would use it without hesitation - and without thinking what her action would entail later on.

The moment she barged into the bedroom, Hermione did a quick scan around the place, while at the same time, she methodically casted a number of spells to ensure her safety from possible unexpected attacks. Hermione intended to have the element of surprise, because she knew that the man could apparate in the room at any second.

She understood why the man hadn't tried apparating beforehand. It's probably because of the speed of which she moved. To her enemy, getting closer to her would have been deadly for him. However, this time around he wouldn't hesitate to do so - after having in no doubt – made his observations. Now, her enemy could easily predict her movements.

Therefore, Hermione had to take precaution. And within the span of five seconds, Hermione had already cast a disillusionment charm on herself; had transfigured her dress robes and one-inch stilettos into a practical garb; and had done a muffling charm on her feet to avoid detection.

Under the disillusionment charm, Hermione was currently wearing a black shirt, a pair of black, loose pants, and a pair of shoes. All of which could provide her the manoeuvrability and extra camouflage that she needed in a fight. Apart from that, she had also used the muffling charm that would allow her to transverse the room silently.

Hermione took another few seconds to successfully scan the room, and took into account the minor details here and there. The room was neat and organized, to the point that Hermione felt like it belong to someone with an obsessive compulsive disorder. Everything was perfectly in place. Not one object was left in complete disarray.

The bedroom was surprisingly big - possibly by an extension charm. The room contained a king-sized bed, a side table, a wardrobe, a small desk, and a small settee just beside the window.

And to Hermione's horror, it was all in the different shades of green. Even the wallpapers were green.

The realization just registered to Hermione the moment her analytical mind came to a screeching halt at the sight of a familiar symbol on the floor. If Hermione hadn't seen the emblem embroidered on the carpet she was currently standing, she would have concluded that the owner of this cottage belonged to someone, whose favourite colour was green. But the Slytherin emblem said otherwise.

Confusion, fear, anger and other emotions rose up to the surface and flooded Hermione's senses, making her suddenly aware that these emotions would hinder her in making rational decisions. And with a remarkable show of inner strength, Hermione squashed down those emotions back to where they came from, and snapped her cold, calculating mind back into place.

What were the odds that Hermione would have landed in an unknown territory, where an obvious Slytherin was currently residing? The chance of that happening was just 5%, and Hermione would have an increased chance of that happening if she was still in her homeland. But Hermione knew she wasn't in England.

She really needed to know her location. Now.

Hermione stepped towards the table where she could see a stack of newspaper articles in a different language. This proved to Hermione that she was not indeed in England. However, the newspaper looked to be from a muggle source, because she couldn't see the moving pictures from where she was standing. She had to know the location before her enemy could launched another attack. And based from the lack of enemy movement from the other side of the wall, Hermione could hazard a guess that it would be any second now.

She had just taken a couple of steps forward when she felt the prickle of magic surging from behind her. Immediately, Hermione propelled herself forward, raised a shield around herself and dove towards the only soft surface that could break her fall without injuring herself.

She was lucky, because the moment she detached herself from her spot, there was an explosion so powerful that it shook the entire cottage. The loud and strong blast nearly knocked her off her feet, where Hermione promptly crashed on the bed unceremoniously, and accidentally had her head smashed into the headboard that left her momentarily dazed.

Like a live grenade that had gone off, the explosion took most of the walls down and caved half of the ceiling. Debris rained down on her while the air around her thickened with smoke and drifting ash as the fire spread across the wreckage. Half of the room was singed black with soot while everything was almost in complete shambles. Even the bed underneath her gave a little groan of protest, and then proceeded to collapse to the ground - with Hermione still on top of it.

Hermione was glad that she had use a shield charm on time, to protect herself from most of the blast, but the stinging pain on her back told her that she didn't entirely escape unscathed.

She could hear a foreboding noise from above her and Hermione looked up to investigate. And the sight that greeted her eyes made Hermione wanted to sigh out loud. There were cracks appearing and wooden panels bending on the ceiling - or what was left of it. And if Hermione didn't move quickly, the entire ceiling would collapse down on her and injure her critically. Another thing that Hermione needed to be concerned about was the new set of cuts, bruises and burnt skin that she had acquired from the blast, which also painfully reminded Hermione to make a run for it, or else the man would arrive soon.

With blood trickling from her fresh wounds, Hermione quickly slid out from the bed, grimacing as her wounds throbbed in pain. She began coughing as the smoke entered her lungs. Her eyes were watering as she squinted through the thick and dark plumes which engulfed most of the area.

Then, Hermione heard the sound of steps across the wreckage in front of her, a sound of someone moving towards her direction. She saw a tall outline through the plumes of smoke. Of course, Hermione unpleasantly knew who it was.

The tall form solidified as he neared, his strides were slow and measured as he slowly appeared in her line of sight. All dark and deadly. His nebulous, malevolent magic trickled out of him in black waves and tendrils that instantly enveloped the entire blast site in mere seconds.

With the fire that burned, and the smoke that rose up as his backdrop, he resembled more like a demon that rose from the bowels of hell, than anything remarkably human.

And there, in his red-tinged gaze, was a promise of death and destruction which was meant for her alone.

The moment Hermione saw his red eyes, all rationality and confidence evaporated from her mind. All she could think about was run, run, run. Run as far away from there as possible, or she was going to die a painful death.

Yet Hermione stood paralyzed and trembling on the spot. Her heart was thumping loudly in her chest like it was about to break out from her rib cage. She had stopped breathing altogether as she watched him moved closer. She stood there trapped, like a deer in headlights.

Fortunately, the demon didn't see her as his gaze swept across the destruction that he had caused, possibly looking for her – or rather some parts of her – after he had probably assumed that his last attack had killed her or injured her critically… It was his mistake.

Hermione's opponent had started underestimating her again. She wondered why he was now in such a hurry to eliminate her.

" _It had been a wise decision to cast that disillusionment charm."_ She concluded while she forced herself to move from her temporary paralysis, and towards the open space where the wall had collapsed – and where she could see the view outside the cottage, and Hermione's possible freedom.

However, the man must have a super hearing because his eyes instantly zeroed on her, which elicited an involuntary gasp from Hermione's lips.

Honed by years of experience – and a little extra something that couldn't be explain - Hermione already had her wand up before her adversary could cast a spell, and sent all the debris – and with some still burning from the wreck - racing towards him. She knew the commotion would distract him while Hermione started bounding for the area where the walls had collapsed. Her survival instincts was driving her forward, just as her logical brain started working again.

" _Trying to apparate would be stupid."_ Hermione deduced. The house still had a lot of high-level wards that encroached the area which she could detect. Hence, Hermione hadn't considered apparating out as a primary option while still within the security boundaries.

If she was about to apparate, she needed to get out from the apparition wards. And based from her conversation with the man prior, Hermione could estimate the distance she needed to run to reach an apparition point, which was approximately around 30-35 meters.

Nevertheless, this wouldn't work unless Hermione could find a way to keep her enemy distracted, or incapacitate him somehow. That left her with one option, which the man had unintentionally given her the idea.

Hermione watched from the corner of her eye as the man avoided the dangerous projectiles that sailed towards him like missiles. She heard him cursed underneath his breath while he flicked his wand to cast a shield charm. Hermione didn't wait for his shield to solidify as she quickly pointed her wand at the ceiling - which was about to collapse by itself from the lack of supporting walls. All the same, Hermione didn't have the time to wait for that to happen. Time was of the essence. So, she collapsed it herself.

 _"Bombarda maxima!"_ She mentally shouted. Not planning to give her exact position away if she shouted it out loud.

A grey light shot out from her wand and towards the half-destroyed ceiling. The grey light impacted and it was soon followed by a loud BOOM – almost like a thunderclap - as the broken ceiling was blasted off its rafters.

Then… it finally, and completely came crashing on top of her unsuspected opponent, who looked temporarily shock by the attack before the entire hulk of wooden panels obscured him from Hermione's view. She knew that the man had raised another shield to protect himself, but she didn't stop to look.

She was already leaping over the collapse walls and away from the pouring wreckage by the time it all happened. A deluge of broken glass, dust, debris and other dangerous projectiles pelted down on Hermione that she had to cover her head. But her paltry defence was useless as she could feel the fresh cuts littering her body.

She didn't stop running the moment she hit the ground outside. Not caring about the glasses and splintered wood that continued to slice and cut against her skin. The wounds were only superficial. It was better than what the man had in store for her if she remained within his radar.

There was spike of magic from behind her and she knew that the man was irrevocably pissed. Hermione sprinted hard, and started to count in her mind that would keep the mounting panic at bay.

" _Thirty meters until the apparition point."_

It was still dark outside, but the light from the house gave Hermione a good outline of her surroundings.

" _Twenty-five meters."_

There was a loud crack of apparition behind her - just a short distance from where she had been - and Hermione shortly understood that the man wouldn't hesitate to appear within her reach, when it was already absolutely necessary.

Her opponent then started blasting curses wildly. Spells after spells rocketed pass her while Hermione darted faster than ever, jumping over small shrubs, boulders and other obstacles in her path.

" _Twenty meters."_

Even when her muffling spell was still functioning, it was useless when she ran through different types of plant life that rustled and snapped every time Hermione barreled through it like a raging rhino. Her stealth was gone, but that didn't deter Hermione.

However, her disillusionment charm was still in place, and it gave her the advantage as she blindly veered through thickets and shrubs while jets of light rushed pass her. One of those blast narrowly hitting her, but thankfully, not one of them made a direct hit.

" _Fifteen meters."_

Despite the fact that her enemy couldn't see her, he was using his hearing to pinpoint her exact location, and judging by the increased shots that missed her by a margin, her opponent had started to predict her progress with a frightening accuracy. It wouldn't take long for him to finally land a shot.

Of course, that didn't happen because he suddenly appeared right beside her with a distinctive crack.

" _Shit!"_ Hermione inwardly curse as she dodged the shot that discharged at close range, and barely escaped when his other hand tried to grab for her.

She fired a stinging hex before his hand could even touch her. The man deflected it of course, but Hermione had already taken this chance to scamper away.

" _Ten meters until freedom."_

She began running in zigzag. Leaves rustled and branches crunched underneath her feet as she leaped and sprinted. The sound of spells zipping towards her resumed.

" _Please don't let him get me."_ Hermione silently prayed while she race towards possible freedom.

" _EIGHT METERS."_

The volley of curses and hexes didn't end. Instead, it seemed to have increased in numbers as the entire area was engulf with different colours of speeding lights. The most powerful ones knocked the trees down, blasted boulders and started a fire. But it seemed luck was on Hermione's side because she was able to navigate through the deteriorating forested area without being shot, or knocked down by flying rubble and other bits.

She ran without looking back, completely unaware that her opponent was purposely sending a great number of spells to hide the one shot that would bring her down.

" _FIVE METERS. ''_

Hermione would have reached the apparition point, until she felt it. The static that made the hair on her arms stood on end. She paused and looked behind her, just in time to see the white light that surged in every direction, blasting away everything that stood on its path. It was a spell that could throw back surrounding enemies in one simultaneous blast. The man would have been successful if the white surge hadn't been two meters away from Hermione, but it was enough for her to flatten herself on the ground before it could reach her.

The whooshing sound was deafening as the shock wave swept pass above her the second she hit the ground. Tall shrubs and trees snapped back as the spell went through it with an incredible speed, and left a current of electricity in its wake.

Despite the fact the Hermione had escaped the most damaging effects from the attack, she wasn't able to stop the current of electricity that went through her system; her muscles jerk and twitch involuntarily, but she didn't make a sound as she lay there twitching. She lay there while she looked up at the broken branches and leaves that fell over on her. It took a whole twenty seconds for the last electrical shocks to disperse - a time that she shouldn't be wasting while she lay there in silence.

Hermione didn't get up though. She stayed like that on the debris-strewn ground, in boneless heap while her mind flooded in relief. Her quick-thinking had saved her from the man's last attack, because it would have rendered her unconscious and injured if she had been running when the shockwave hit. The only disadvantage about the spell is that, it can't blast away enemies who were already lying down on the ground. However, it would still leave them briefly incapacitated by the amount of electrical shocks it could cause.

Hermione decided to remain in that position. She figured that the man would be too confident to presume that his last attack wasn't successful. Therefore, he probably thought that she was unconscious and injured at this point, which means he would lower his guard the instance he began to search for her.

This would surely give her the time to launch her next attack.

She stayed still on the ground and listened carefully. She was fortunate that she had taken cover from one of the bushes. Inspite of her disillusionment charm, Hermione still needed a sense of security, which the bush could provide while she waited.

It didn't take a minute when she heard him moving through the thickets. He was purposely heading in her general direction, and he sounded furious. The air around them seemed to turn scorching cold with his dark and fiery magic.

That didn't bode well for Hermione. It didn't look like his guard was down.

She had to pretend to be injured by now, and when he was near, Hermione would attack. She decided that it was the only choice that she had at the moment, than running away. Hermione willed her body to calm down. Her heart was raising fast. Fear and anticipation fleeted on her mind as she waited for the enemy to come to her. She had to bite her lip and inhale through her nose just to stifle her heavy breathing while trying to force herself to calm down.

As she lay there, she finally noticed the throbbing pain all over her body. She could feel the trickle of blood which came from the gashes, cuts and burnt marks that she had obtained. Even her black garb was in tatters, and didn't provide her the protection that she needed from the harshness of the forest floor. Rocks, branches and leaves were scraping against her fresh wounds that Hermione had to clench her teeth to keep herself from groaning.

The sound of heavy footfall became loud as the man drew close. He was about ten meters away from her when he slowed down.

Hermione's brows knitted. She wondered what had interrupted the man's progress.

" _ **Where have you been?!"**_ Hermione heard the enemy say to someone in a tone that puzzled her. He sounded like he was hissing.

" _ **Haunting for food, Master."**_ came the hissing response from the unknown person.

" _ **What?! You were haunting? Did you know that we have an intruder in our midst?"**_ demanded the man in annoyance.

Hermione remained frozen on her spot while an overwhelming sense of dread descended on her, when she realized what the words meant.

The man was no longer alone. He had someone with him.

" _ **Apologies, master. Nagi—"**_

There was an angry growl, which cut off the other person mid-sentence, and then followed by an exasperated sigh.

" _ **Never mind. We will discuss this later. For now, I have a task for you."**_ The man replied, finally able to control himself. _**"Incidentally, I have a little morsel for you to haunt. She's the little intruder that I mentioned. She's somewhere around here. Perhaps if you find her for me, you can have what's left of her once I'm done."**_

As Hermione listened to the conversation, she began to feel alarmed at the thought of being eaten alive by some magical creature that her enemy owned.

Hermione really need to leave, like. Right Now.

" _ **Of course, Master. Thank you, Master."**_

Slowly, very slowly, Hermione began crawling. She only had five meters left to reach the apparition point. She should have done this the instance she heard them talking.

" _ **Go now before she tries to escape once again. Although I'm certain she's probably too injured to even try."**_

" _Stupid!"_ Hermione reprimanded herself as she crept quietly while listening to their conversation.

" _ **As you say, Master."**_

Hermione stilled and listened while she griped her wand tightly.

It was not until she eventually heard the soft rustle of the grass and the hiss that followed, did Hermione realized that her predicament had gone from bad, to worst.

A large, green snake slipped through the bushes where Hermione had ventured. She went rigid as the snake stopped in front of her. The snake couldn't see her yet, but it won't be long when it would.

Hermione raised her wand at it, ready to blast it away, when it suddenly registered to her.

" _The man is a parselmouth!"_ She realized.

The snake's tongue came out to savour the air. The moment it did, Hermione knew that her disillusionment was useless against the snake. She wasn't disappointed as its predatory eyes were suddenly fixed on her.

" _Reduc—,"_ Hermione began in thought, her wand aimed at the reptile…

But an impossible thing happened.

" _ **She's here master."**_

It talked… and somehow Hermione understood it – which was just absurd. She lay there stock-stilled, unsure if she heard the snake correctly.

 _ **"What did you just say?"**_ She blurted.

The snake in front of her blinked at the question, as if startled. However, before either of them could say anything to each other again, they both heard the loud crack of apparition a meter away, just as the man appeared in all his dark glory.

Hermione's heart leaped to her throat. Her body moved on its own. She didn't wait for her nemesis to attack since she bolted from her hiding place and hastily fired. She acted on instinct and hadn't thought twice of casting that spell… until it was too late.

The spell that she promised to never use.

The spell that made her into a killer.

" _Concisus Vulnero!"_

Her spell hit the man squarely in the chest, who obviously hadn't expected it. The man looked surprised at the attack before he staggered back.

Hermione could only watched in silent horror as blood began to blossom on the man's front shirt. Directly after, Hermione had taken an unconscious step towards him as she suddenly realized what she had done. She had thought of healing him. However, when she saw the look of unmistakable rage on the man's face, she halted.

The look on the man's face was hauntingly similar to the first man she had killed. The death eater had been murderously angry as well, to have been bested by a muggleborn witch. But he had died anyway… because Hermione still hadn't known how to heal the curse that she had created at that time. And that blood on her hands could never be wash away, no matter how many times Hermione had tried to scrub it since that day. But it's always there, haunting her…dripping…always dripping in her hands…a phantom made of crimson blood. A stain she could never remove.

A stabbing pain went through Hermione's chest, tearing her away from her dark thoughts. She gasped as it intensified; her hand instantly went straight towards the throbbing area, and it came out wet with blood.

"You little chit!" Her injured adversary hissed at her as he tried to heal his wound, but the blood kept flowing. It had stained most of his immaculate shirt in crimson red - his life blood. And Hermione could only watch through pain-filled eyes as the man collapsed on the ground on one knee. The hard planes of his face were etched in murderous rage while a hand was pressed against the wound to control the bleeding.

"What have you done to me?" Her adversary groaned, but didn't give her the time to respond because what he said next nearly brought Hermione to her knees as well.

The same curse that a dead man had uttered just right before he died.

Nearly a year since she had last heard of it…

**"Avada Kedavra!"**

The blood in Hermione's veins thundered as a jet of green light came rushing towards her. She was still in pain, but the adrenaline in her system force her to move. She clumsily flipped to the side, tripped, and fell. The killing curse missed her by a fraction of an inch, and it hit a tree behind her, where it shattered the bark.

Hermione slammed into the ground. Hard. The force of her fall knocked the breath out of her. She didn't dare move as the dull throb on her chest had intensified into an excruciating pain. She didn't need to look to know that it was heavily bleeding.

 _"Why?_ _How could this be?"_ She thought. She didn't remember being hit on the chest, and not even a critical wound. _"Then why?"_ Hermione moaned in pain while she dispelled the disillusionment charm on herself to look at the wound. It looked like it was caused from the curse that she had created. She tried healing it immediately, but it wouldn't; even when she was using the right healing charm for that specific curse.

Hermione was too focus on her new injury that nothing registered to her, not even the man's next command.

" _ **Nagini, Kill her!"**_

The pain on her chest nearly drove every thought away from her mind as she curled herself into a tight ball. The injury felt like the same one that she had cast towards the man's chest, but she didn't know how she had gotten it.

She was still in a foetal position when she heard something move near her feet.

" _ **You cannot escape me girl."**_

All of a sudden, the snake was upon her. It reared its head and look like it was about to strike, and Hermione was too paralyzed to stop it, so paralyzed with fear and agony that all she could think about was its poisoned fangs and her inevitable death…

But nothing happened.

" _ **You hurt my master."**_ It said all of a sudden.

Hermione could only stare at the snake's intent gaze as it waited for her to respond. Perhaps there was a reason why the snake seemed to be interested in speaking to her, instead of killing her right on the spot.

" _Calm down, and let's see how this goes."_ Hermione thought as she tried to draw out her logical shield. She barely drew an ounce of her mental prowess, when all she could feel was agony…unbearable agony.

 _ **"Your master deserved it."**_ She gritted out. The pain on her chest still throbbed. The front of her clothes was now soaked with blood. _**"He was trying to kill me."**_

The reptile was silent for a while as it stared at her in curiosity. Hermione remained still, her face screwed in an agonized expression. Then to her surprised, the snake lowered its head while its eyes became less predatory.

Yes…Hermione could use this to her advantage.

" _ **He is hurt."**_ The snake said. _**"Fix him."**_

Hermione could only grimaced in reaction.

 _ **"Why should I?"**_ She whispered. Although she felt quiet horrified and slightly guilty when she had cast the spell, but Hermione was certain that the man would kill her first before he would allow her near him.

" _ **Fix him and I let you live."**_

 _ **"No."**_ Hermione said. How could she heal a man who tried to kill her? Most importantly, how could she heal the man when she was injured herself? Yet something nagged at Hermione to do it…. _The image of a dead man staring lifelessly upwards, a pool of blood appearing beneath a cooling body…while her hands, her hands were …_

" _ **Fix him or you die!"**_

Hermione shook herself from the dark images. She was aggravated with herself. What's more, the snake was really starting to irk her. Merlin. She had just graduated today, and yet everything went down the drain the moment Luna gave her that crystal stone. She was also bewildered by the fact that she was able to talk to the snake. She wasn't a parselmouth. Then, how come she could communicate with it? Hermione considered it for a moment, but no idea came to her.

She turned her attention back to the snake, which immediately made its threats known again by rearing its head.

" _ **Fix my master or I kill you."**_

 _ **"I am also injured."**_ She stated; her eyes went to the blood stain on her chest before she looked back at the snake. _**"I no longer have any strength."**_

" _ **Find strength."**_ The snake hissed while it raised its head high in a threatening manner.

 _ **"Fine."**_ Hermione groaned. It wasn't an option anymore. But this was also an opportunity for her to keep herself safe. _**"Then, if I do this, I want you to be the witness for our life debt. If I healed your master, he shall be indebted to me."**_

" _ **Yes."**_ The snake hadn't even hesitated before it answered. He seemed to be in hurry to save his master. Hermione of course knew that the man didn't have much time. The curse that she had cast was powerful. It would take around twenty-minutes before the man bled to death, and it had already been after ten minutes since the curse hit the man.

Hermione grunted as she forced herself to sit up. She could barely manage it as she bit her lip to stop herself from crying out in pain. Blood soaked her entire front and she knew that it wouldn't be long enough before she bled to death as well. She was already feeling lightheaded at the amount of blood she lost.

" _ **Come."**_ The snake hissed as it slithered towards its master.

As it slithered away, Hermione thought of making an escape, but decided against it. The snake would be on her sooner than she could take a step to freedom. She was also critically wounded, and apparating would do harm than good. She might even end up getting splinch in the process. Well then, Hermione would have to rely on that life debt to keep the man from killing her, or he could even help her find her way home.

Hermione clenched her teeth and followed. She half crawled, and half stumbled towards the semiconscious man on the ground. She realized that she hadn't been the only one who was worse for wear as she considered the gashes and cuts on the man's face and arms - and perhaps other wounds that she couldn't see. Like her, blood had completely soaked the man's shirt. His face had turned deathly pale and there was a pool of blood underneath him. And at the sight of him in that position, Hermione was suddenly assaulted by memories that she had tried to forget.

" _Oh Merlin! I'm so sorry! I didn't mean too!" Hermione cried out, horrified at the amount of blood gushing from the man's chest. She really didn't mean to use that curse. She didn't mean it! It was an accident!_

" _I will kill you for this mudblood!" The pale man choked, a dribble of blood appearing at the corners of his mouth. "I will kill you! Avada Kedavra!"_

" _ **Fix him now!"**_

Hermione was brought abruptly from her tormented thoughts at the sound of the snake's hissing. Her attention snapped back to the present. Her eyes immediately assessed the extent of the man's wound, and it didn't look good. He was obviously losing blood faster than her. He probably would have approximately three minutes left to live if Hermione wouldn't do something about it.

Hermione looked at the snake. _ **"Remember the life debt, snake. Remind your master about it once he is awake."**_

" _ **This will be done! Now fix him!"**_ The snake hissed, perhaps aware that his master didn't have much time left.

Hermione obliged while she slowly settled down. However, she ended up crumpled to the ground as her strength finally left her. The man stirred slightly and Hermione immediately felt uneasy as she lay there close to him.

" _ **Nagini... did you kill her?"**_ He murmured; his voice barely audible.

The snake didn't respond. Hermione, too, was silent. The man seemed to be unaware of Hermione's presence beside him. It must be because he was already drifting in and out of consciousness.

He didn't talk after that.

She stared at the face beside her before she pulled out her wand.

" _ **Kill him and I kill you."**_ The snake warned from behind.

Hermione ignored it. She wasn't scared of the threat because she was now determine to heal the man, because Hermione couldn't bear the thought of another man's blood on her hands. One was enough, but two was too much. Hermione needed to save this man, because she had failed to save the first one. It hadn't been her intention to kill him. And like the first man she had killed, she had acted on instinct. She really didn't mean to hit him with that curse; the curse that she had accidentally created. Now, she felt ashamed of its creation as she looked at the bloody man.

He would die soon, if Hermione doesn't heal him fast. His blood would be on her hands if he does... _a phantom blood stains, haunting her forever._

Hermione could never forgive herself. Enemy or not, she didn't desire death for him. She would save him even if it would drain her. After all, she was the only one who could heal him.

Hermione looked at the man regretfully.

"I'm sorry." She whispered to him and placed her wand arm flat on his chest. The man didn't stir at her touch. His shirt was soaking wet with blood but Hermione ignored it. She was getting tired. She couldn't lift her head to look at the wound, but the position of her wand would be enough to cast the healing spell.

 **"Vulnus Curatio."** She murmured while she closed her eyes. She knew casting the spell once wouldn't completely heal the deep wound on the man's chest. So Hermione repeated it four more times while she felt her magic drained from her.

When she was finished, she just stayed there; her body had become heavy that she couldn't move. She could feel that her blood had pooled underneath her, mingling with the man's life blood.

" _It looked like some sick blood ritual had just occurred with all the blood on the ground."_ Hermione darkly thought _._

She lay there silent while her head lay beside the man's, and Hermione couldn't resist from scrutinizing the man's features. He had such a beautiful face for such an evil, diabolical man. With the rakish curl of black hair on his forehead, the fringe of long lashes, the strong masculine jaw, the straight nose, and lastly, his perfect lips. The man really did look like a dark angel the moment she laid eyes on him.

" _More like Lucifer. The Devil."_ Hermione mused darkly. _"Thankfully, you are off limits or else I might end up getting drag into hell."_

Hermione had been staring at his face a lot longer than she desired, and observed that it was slowly gaining colour. It was no longer pale; her healing charm had worked. She sighed in relief. She was satisfied to have done something good, even if it was someone who wanted to kill her.

" _ **How is master?"**_

Her thoughts were interrupted by the hiss of the snake. Hermione had almost forgotten about it.

 _ **"He's fine now."**_ She muttered weakly.

There was a silent pause, and then the snake said.

" _ **Fix yourself."**_

Hermione was startled that the snake even remembered that she was injured. She was slightly grateful for the reminder and silently made a mental check on herself. Her brows furrowed as she subjectively inspected the extent of her injury.

It was odd. She only felt a dull ache on her chest. The blood had stopped bleeding. Despite the good and odd development, Hermione was exhausted, exhausted beyond belief that she could sleep for an entire week. She also could have healed the rest of her wounds if she wanted to, but they were only superficial wounds. She didn't need to tend to them with her healing magic, or else she would end up magically exhausted as well.

She was about to inform the snake about her physical condition, when she heard the bay of a wolf in the distance. Instantly, every muscle in Hermione's body tensed at the terrifying sound. Then, her fear mounted when she heard the answering call from another wolf, and another, and another until it was a chorus of wolves howling.

" _Merlin!"_ She thought as the sounds sent a chill down Hermione's spine as she laid there. It was still dark and Hermione knew that the scent of her blood and the man's had already attracted a number of predators in the area.

It wouldn't take long before the wolves find them.

" _ **Find shelter!"**_

Hermione nearly jumped out of her skin when she heard the snake. She felt it slid over her body and then over to its master, where it looked at her.

" _ **Wolves will come."**_ It informed her. _**"Go find shelter."**_

 _ **"I can't."**_ Hermione mumbled softly; her eyes, even though they were bright with fear, were starting to get heavy while dark spots dance across her vision. _**"I can't move anymore."**_

" _ **My master is asleep."**_

 _ **"Do you mean unconscious?"**_ She corrected as she closed her eyes.

" _ **Yes."**_

Apparently, the snake really didn't care at all if she was exhausted or dying, but the fear of being devoured alive by wolves overpowered the rest of her thoughts.

 _ **"Fine."**_ Hermione released a heavy sigh, and with that, she summoned the last ounce of her magic and created a strong and protective barrier. The red orb materialized and solidified around them. The shield would keep the wolves at bay and provide them with warmth for a few hours. Hopefully, it would be morning by the time the shield disappeared.

The shield had just settled down on the ground, when Hermione's eyes began to droop. A few seconds later, she gradually succumbed to the beckoning darkness.

_**"My master is in your debt."** _

She heard the snake say and soon the darkness completely swallowed her.

* * *

His eyes fluttered opened, and was immediately blinded by the mid-morning light that streamed through the trees. He blinked at the bright spots that appeared in his eyes, and used this moment to drink in his surroundings.

Tom realized that he was lying in the forest floor with something warm and soft pressed to his side. There was also a weight splayed on top of his chest while he could feel soft breathing right next to his ear. Curious, he turned his face to the side, and instantly stiffened when he found himself staring at a female face. A face so close to his that Tom could clearly see the faint freckles that dusted across her cheeks, the thick lashes that curled upwards and the little mole on the corner of her right eye.

Their faces were just an inch apart that his nose was nudging against hers, but she didn't seem to be aware of his scrutiny as her eyes remained shut. He continued to stare at her, unable to tear his gaze away from that innocent look on the woman's face.

He was brought to his senses when the woman suddenly let out a sigh. Memories of what happened earlier came rushing back to him, and as he remembered, his murderous rage returned ten-fold.

He was about to push the woman away from him, when she did something unexpected. She suddenly moved; her lips accidentally brushing against his, and he immediately went rigid with astonishment. Completely stunned, he didn't do anything when the woman's tongue flicked against his lower lip. His brain was still trying to process the odd situation. Tom was certain that the woman was probably dreaming of someone else as she continued to kiss him with her eyes closed.

And then without warning, she leaned closer, moulded her lips against his, and started kissing him with an unrestrained passion. Tom's breathing hitched while something stirred inside him as the woman started to nibble and lick his lower lip - asking for entry.

" _What in the-?!"_ Tom thought as he put his hands on her shoulder, and was about to shove her away – and with a force that would surely wake her up - when she suddenly bit his lip. Hard.

Tom couldn't prevent the surprise gasp that escaped from his lips. The moment that he did, he felt the woman's tongue slipped in his mouth and started kissing him deeply.

For one moment, Tom's brain seemed to freeze as all his senses were assaulted by new things that were too difficult and staggering for him to grasp, which includes: the taste of vanilla that exploded on his taste buds, the scent of lavender that flooded his olfactory sense, the delicate touch of fingers on his hair, the feel of a young, supple body against his lean physique, and – and Merlin that tongue – that tongue on his mouth…and against his as it tasted and explored him, and made him groan in unbridled need.

Then, a pair of lips found its way to his bottom lip, where it proceeded to suck him hard, and sent jolts of pleasure and dark forbidden lust racing up his spine. Tom involuntarily shuddered. His fury completely obliterated as that tongue and lips continued to assault him.

By the time his mind had started working again, he was already breathing hard, his eyes had darkened with need, and the rest of his body was just….

" _ **Master,"**_

The word abruptly brought his attention back to the present. Tom tore his lips from the woman, and blinked. He stared at the woman underneath him, noting her swollen lips, her flushed skin, and her eyes which remained shut.

Realization flooded his senses and he was totally disgusted about what he had done.

" _I just kissed an unconscious woman! A woman who tried to kill me! Bloody Hell!"_ He mentally admonished himself.

" _ **Master."**_ He heard Nagini repeat, which grated his nerves.

" _ **What Nagini?"**_ He snapped. Still angry with himself for the lapse of judgement.

Tom couldn't understand why he had such a strong reaction towards the woman. It felt like a spell had been cast on him, and he just couldn't easily shake it off or use a counter curse to remove it. Whatever it was, Tom knew that it hadn't only been his emotions that pushed him to kiss the woman. Something else was manipulating him into feeling this way.

He was scowling when he rolled away from the woman, and stood up. He cringed when he felt his entire body protesting. The wound on his chest was healed but the rest of his injuries were not. Blood and dirt covered his clothes and skin, while he felt light-headed as he abruptly stood up.

He really needed to have that blood-replenishing potion.

" _ **What is it that you want?"**_ Tom asked calmly this time.

Nagini didn't answer while she gazed up at him, then her eyes flickered towards the woman on the ground, before going back to him and giving him an odd look.

He ignored the look. He really didn't want to hear any of Nagini's opinion right now as he glanced back at the prone form on the ground. There were a lot of unanswered questions that he wanted to ask the snake, especially concerning the woman. His piercing gaze returned to the snake that was lazily lying at the foot of a tree.

" _ **Nagini,"**_ He drawled, his voice laced with a promise of violence. _**"Why is the woman still alive?"**_

There was a slight pause while he waited for the snake to answer.

" _ **I let her fix master."**_ Nagini explained indifferently.

Tom eyed her coldly.

" _ **I thought I ordered you to kill her?"**_ He asked in a dangerous tone. _ **"Why is that you failed to follow my order?"**_

Nagini was quiet for a while before she answered again.

" _ **She speaks to me."**_

" _ **What do you mean she speaks to you?"**_ He growled in exasperation.

" _ **She speaks the tongue."**_

" _ **Do you mean she is a parselmouth?"**_ He asked; his brows shot up in amazement.

" _ **Yesss,"**_

" _ **But that is impossible."**_ He frowned. _**"I am the last heir of Salazar Slytherin."**_

" _ **Perhaps she is distant relative?"**_ Nagini suggested silkily.

He glared at the snake.

" _ **No, I would have known if I have any relatives left. She is a stranger."**_

" _ **But she speaks the tongue."**_ The snake reiterated.

" _ **Perhaps you are mistaken, Nagini?"**_ He asked irritably.

" _ **No, master. The girl speaks snake."**_

Tom sneered at the snake's impertinence, but didn't do anything. If it was another person, he would have killed them already.

" _ **We will just see once she regains consciousness."**_ He hissed and turned his attention back to the woman.

" _ **Meanwhile, I shall make plans for the woman. I need her for information.."**_ He said, a cruel smile curling his lips as he ran his dark eyes over her, glancing at the blood and dirt the caked most of her body. Then, his eyes involuntarily drifted towards her lips once again, and remembered the sweet taste of vanilla in his mouth.

When Tom realized where his thoughts had strayed, he immediately wrenched his eyes from the woman, totally angry with himself. Something about the way Tom reacted to her felt suspiciously like an attraction spell. If he found out that the woman had indeed cast the spell on him, then he would make her suffer dearly.

" _ **She will receive severe punishment for what she has done."**_ He promised, trying to forget where his thoughts had been not a moment ago.

" _ **She saved master twice."**_ Nagini suddenly informed him.

Tom turned to her, and frowned.

" _ **Why is it that I feel like you are protecting her, Nagini?"**_ He asked in a dangerous tone, and noticed the slight tensing of the snake at the question.

" _ **No, master."**_ She assured. _**"I do not protect the girl. She ask me to tell you that you are now honour bound to a life debt, master."**_

" _Honour bound? Ha! If only she knew."_ He mused darkly, still eyeing her. _**"She saved me twice, you say?"**_

" _ **Yesss."**_

" _ **Hmn.."**_ Tom mumbled as he regarded the snake. " _ **Nagini, you should know by now that I don't care if the woman saved me twice or not – or anything about this life debt you speak of. She is an intruder. She nearly killed me, and I plan to use her in whatever means possible to extract the truth out of her. I want to know the location of that Bulgarian cur - Volkovich, who probably was behind this planned attack. He's the only enemy that I have who remained at large**_ _."_

" _Notwithstanding Dumbledore of course, who certainly won't result to assassination attempts just to kill me. That's too cowardly for the old man's taste. "_ Tom surmised.

" _ **Yes, master. I understand your reasons."**_

" _ **Is there anything else you want to tell me?"**_

" _ **No, master."**_

" _ **Then, we should head back to the cottage."**_ He said dismissively while he raised his wand and pointed it at the woman on the ground.

**"Mobilicorpus."**

* * *

When Tom arrived at the half-destroyed cottage, he immediately set up in restoring everything. He had the walls back up again and repaired all the broken furniture within an hour. Despite the fact that the woman was still unconscious, Tom decided to restrain her, and had Nagini watched her while he cleaned and healed himself.

After he had taken the blood-replenishing potion, he focused his attention to his injuries. As he looked in the mirror, he was disappointed to see that there was now a faint scar on his once unblemished chest. Upon closer inspection, Tom knew that the wound had been deep and was hard to heal. The rest of his injuries were just minor cuts and bruises, but soon found out that they were unusual. Some of the cuts didn't heal after he tried to use different kinds of healing charm on it. It was really odd since the other cuts had healed without even leaving a scar.

More than that, Tom felt alarmed when saw the the burnt marks on his back that didn't heal as well. He clearly recalled that he hadn't been burnt during the confrontation, because he had use a fire-resistant charm on himself, when he had entered the devastated bedroom.

Something really strange was happening to him, and it wasn't only about his unusual reaction to the woman. Something else was afoot.

Even after he had taken a bath and tried healing his wounds again, the wounds remained. He started to suspect that the woman was behind this problem.

After putting on some fresh clothes and running a comb to his hair, Tom finally went in to check on the woman. He had left her in the living area, where he had suspended her in mid-air and tied her ankles and wrist with invisible bindings. Her wand was already in his possession, but he still took extra precaution with the woman, because he knew first hand that she was fast, resourceful and dangerous.

" _And beautiful."_ came the unbidden thought, in which Tom hastily squashed. _"Damnation!"_

The woman was a complete menace. She had distracted him thrice already. The first time was when she had half-fake smiled at him, the second time was when she had suddenly twirled like a disgusting muggle dancer, and the third time was when she had abruptly snogged him like a bitch in heat. All of which was something Tom had no control of, because he would certainly not lose his focus in the middle of a duel - no matter how beautiful the woman was, _and that little chit certainly wasn't!_

Thus, Tom wouldn't allow these odd emotions to divert him from his purpose, which involve extracting information from her - and as slowly and as painfully as possible until she tore her vocal chords with her agonized screams.

He rolled his shirt sleeves up to reveal his lean forearms. For certain, blood would be spilled once he get started with his captive. So, he really didn't want to waste his time using cleaning charms on himself in the middle of an interrogation session. The woman was distracting enough, he certainly didn't need another distraction, especially if it was about future blood stains on his shirt.

" _This will be fun."_ He grinned with a dark glee as he exited his room.

* * *

" _ **Nagini, is she awake?"**_ He asked once he came out from the bedroom.

" _ **No, master."**_

The snake was on the sofa while she watched the hovering woman just near the fireplace.

" _ **She is asleep."**_

"Hmn.."He murmured, striding towards the woman.

As he stood in front of her, Tom studied her. He had purposely suspended the woman a foot from the ground so that he could look at her eye-to-eye once she woke up, but at the moment the woman had her head hang low, and had her brown curls hiding most of her face.

He brushed the hair away from her face and tipped her head up.

There were movements underneath her eyelids but she remained unconscious. She was probably dreaming of something, and Tom couldn't help but wonder what it was. He let go of her chin and looked down at her entire form. His cold, blue eyes settled on the dried blood on her chest.

" _ **Nagini, How did she get the injury in her chest?"**_

" _ **I do not know, master."**_ The snake replied while she slithered down from the sofa to the carpeted floor. _**"She was injured when master was injured."**_

" _ **Interesting."**_ He mumbled, his eyes intently looking at the blood stain. _**"I remembered that none of my curses hit her. I wonder where she got this."**_

He touched the dried blood, ignoring the fact that he was touching a woman's chest.

Suddenly curious about the wound, he decided to take a closer look.

"Perhaps, I should better take a look at the wound." He said while he drew out his wand, but hesitated, suddenly a bit unsure of himself. Thinking that he was just being foolish, he flicked his wand and the woman's tattered clothes disappeared from her body, bearing her to him; except for the black underclothes that covered her most private place.

However, the instant the clothes vanished. Tom soon regretted it as he found himself unable to resist from gazing at the body in front of him. His initial thought of examining the wound vanished, and was replaced by something far more strong and potent.

Without even knowing it, his had already reached for her. His fingers were brushing against the soft skin of her waist while his eyes had darkened at the contact, but didn't do more when he suddenly realized what he was doing.

" _What the hell is wrong with me?!"_

Tom stilled and closed his eyes. Breathing harshly as he tried to reign down the desire that came over him. He was still shaken by what he had done. This was the second time that he almost lost his self-control. The lust that he felt was abnormal. He hadn't experience such a strong and raw emotion before. Even in the past where he had a fair share in woman, his emotion was always under his control.

Women practically threw themselves at him. They had been beautiful and almost perfect but they didn't make him lose his rationality.

" _These emotions are too strong to be true. A spell must be involved."_ Tom inwardly deduce, getting furious at the possibility. _"The woman must have done something to me at some point, which caused these changes in me."_

Tom really needed some answers now before he totally lost his control, and just kill the woman on the spot.

" _ **She is perfect mate for master."**_ Nagini suddenly said.

He froze.

" _ **What do you mean by that, Nagini?"**_ He gritted out, quickly taking his hand off the woman as if burned.

" _ **Master likes to mate the girl."**_ Nagini observed bluntly.

His face hardened at the outrageous statement. By Nagini's words "mate with the girl" could also be interpreted as "having sex with the girl," which was just completely out of the question, since the woman had tried to kill him, and she's probably connected to Volkovich, which would mean that Tom would have to kill her when he was done with her. Well… perhaps not since he was 'honour bound' to her through a life debt. But who said not to harm her while under the debt? It definitely didn't say anything about preventing torture altogether.

" _ **Nagini, don't you remember that the woman nearly killed me?"**_ He reminded her, his eyes narrowed.

" _What was wrong with the snake?"_ He wondered angrily. Since the woman appeared, Nagini seemed to have taken a liking to her, which was totally unacceptable to him.

" _ **The girl also likes to mate with master."**_

Completely incensed, he spat out.

" _ **Don't you have something to do, Nagini?!"**_

The snake just gave him an affronted look before slithering away. Tom watched her leave through glacial eyes. After she disappeared out of sight, he swivelled back the woman in front of him, and resumed his initial task.

He ignored the woman's unclothed form while he started inspecting the wound. He cleaned the dried blood off her skin and closely examined the scar on her chest, all the while trying to keep his eyes off from wandering over some 'dangerous' areas. Tom was quite surprised to see the faint scar on her chest, which was a perfect replica to the one scar that he had on his chest.

Tom knew that this wasn't purely coincidental as he moved his attention to the other injuries that the woman had attained. His eyes fell on the cut near her collar bone. It looked like the cut that he had on his collar bone, which didn't disappear when he had tried healing it.

Acting out of plain assumption, he healed the cut on the woman's collar bone. And as the cut disappeared, Tom touched the cut on his collar bone and wasn't surprised when it was no longer there. He didn't stop there as he continued to heal the cuts on the woman's body, and checking his cuts for confirmation. The cuts on his body healed the same way as the woman did.

Afterwards, Tom started healing the woman's burnt skin at her back, and even though it took some time, he was able to heal most of the burn.

It seemed that his assumptions were correct. He and the woman had shared the same injuries for some inexplicable reason, which he would soon find out from his captive. And he was about to heal a wound on the woman's right arm when he finally saw the scar; the faint scar near her wrist.

Tom froze, his eyes running over the distinguished letters.

_**Mudblood.** _

When he read the word again, and again, something inside him snapped.

Tom immediately recoiled from the woman. Fury, revulsion and hatred flashed across his face as he glared at her, suddenly seeing her in a new light. A sound of self-disgust escaped from his lips, when he recalled what he did to her. He had kissed and touched a _mudblood_!

" _Utterly disgraceful!"_

And the thing that really infuriated him was that some of part of him had liked it, and had allowed himself to feel lust for her – Her - a mudblood - of unworthy and filthy blood, had made him desire her and who nearly killed him. " _This was the work of a spell! Definitely not from him!"_

" _Is this what she had planned all along? Or even Volkovich for that matter? To make me feel these strong emotions – to make me feel attracted to this disgusting mudblood? And put me under a curse that could make me vulnerable -or rather - helplessly mortal to the physical wounds of another?_ " His eyes glittered with self-loathing, revulsion and fury as he glowered menacingly at her.

She would pay.

She would suffer.

He will destroy her until nothing is left of her.

He would make sure of that.

Driven by too many negative emotions, Tom pointed his wand at the unconscious woman.

 **" _Renervate."_** He snarled.

" _Time to spill some dirty blood.."_

_**To be continued….** _

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Hello, there everyone! I hope this chapter wasn't confusing to anyone out there. It took me a long time to write this chapter because I did a lot of changes from the original second chapter. Major changes. To those who followed this story years ago, please read this second chapter first because a lot of things happened here. You won't be able to understand it if you read the third chapter.
> 
> Anyways, I hope you can leave some reviews! Thanks to all the people who reviewed! Favorited and Followed!
> 
> Well, I think the characters will be OOC in this story, more so with Hermione. However, Tom in this chapter love to listen to himself talk. Is he OOC? Hn..I'm uncertain, although I recall reading the part where Voldemort talked a lot about himself during the graveyard scene in the Goblet of Fire (book). Hmn...I think I will have to read that part again.
> 
> Oh and before I forgot, please check out the book cover and the book banner that I created for this story. It's in my profile. Just click the link and you will see the banner and cover that I created. You will get to see Hermione with what I perceived as Tom (Matthew Cohen) along with the picture of the cottage they are staying, the creepy forest around Albania and the bracelet. You can see all of these details in the banner. Please check out!
> 
> Other than that, I'm also planning to write a Game of Thrones and Harry Potter crossover with Hermione and Tom as the main character. I also made a banner for the story (even though I'm not finished with writing the first chapter). Please check out the pictures as well! In the banner you will get to see Hermione, Tom and Jon Snow at the center, with some wildlings, a White Walker hovering at the top and The Wall as the background. This story is going to be epic, so I plan for Hermione to be a wildling who kick-ass. You can also see a picture of her as a wildling in my Profile, where there is a link. Please go see it if you have the time! Thank you very much!


	3. The Unwanted Connection

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "What is this feeling?....this kind of pull we had to each other? This unwanted connection?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: The characters belong to J.K. Rowling.
> 
> Warnings: story contains; coarse language, violence (torture and murder), blood and gore, explicit lemons.This is going to be a very DARK fic. It's really not suited for those who are gentle at heart and for minors. So be warned.
> 
> MUST KNOW
> 
> *words written in:
> 
> Italic - internal monologue
> 
> Bold - magical spells/ charms / curses
> 
> Bold and Italic - speaking in Parseltounge

 

* * *

" **Rennervate."**

Hermione jerked awake. It felt like she was doused by a bucket of icy water. The trickling sensation over her weakened limbs lingered as her eyes took in the bleary objects in front of her.

It looked like she was inside the cottage once again.

"Who are you?" an angry drawl came from a figure to her left.

Hermione blinked as she tried to clear her vision. The moment it did, she saw the dark-haired man and grimaced instantaneously.

"Answer me you filthy, mudblood!" the point of his wand was suddenly at her throat. "Who are you?!"

Hermione's eyes narrowed at the epithet. Anger curdled inside her, she tried to move her limbs but found out that they were bound. Her arms and legs were spread from either side of her while she was suspended one foot from the ground in a humiliating manner. It was even more mortifying when she discovered that she wasn't wearing her clothes. The only piece of clothing that she had on her person was her black undergarments.

Hermione flushed crimson at the realization, and at the same time, she was completely outraged. There she was: half-naked, spread in a degrading manner, vulnerable and plus, she was exhausted.

Thus, Hermione decided to ignore the man's question and started to struggle weakly against her invisible bindings.

Apparently, he had seen the faint scar on her arm (courtesy of Bellatrix Lestrange), when he had divested her off her clothes. The thought of being sexually assaulted by this man while she was unconscious made her throat tightened in fear. She prayed that this man wasn't completely pretending to be disgusted by her blood status. Or else she'll have to add rape to her list of worries.

She ceased her struggles when the man, all of a sudden, moved closer to her vulnerable form. He was still tall even when Hermione hovered a foot above the ground. Cold, blue eyes pierced through her. It almost felt like she was being cleaved in two, and Hermione had to tear her gaze hurriedly before her captor could even think of using legillimency while she was still weak to resist.

"I said, who are you mudblood?!" The man barked sharply. She felt his fingers gripping her chin before her gaze was jerk forcefully in his direction.

"I told you. I am no one." Hermione responded testily. She tried in vain to wrench her chin from his painful grip while she fixed her sight on his forehead; effectively avoiding his eyes, where she also happened to espy upon a faint throbbing of his temporal vein. A clear indication that he was completely incense at her provocative answer. But Hermione soldiered on, not even realizing that she was already threading in dangerous waters.

"I don't see why I should give you my name when I don't even know who—!"

Hermione wasn't able to finish her sentence as the man lost his composure, and he shortly let loose another unforgivable curse known to the Wizarding World.

The Torture Curse.

" **Crucio!"**

The room was soon filled with her screams as she felt the all-too-familiar effects of the Cruciatus curse striking her body. Hermione twitched and jerked. Her thoughts scattered to the winds, and all she could think about was the sensations of invisible blades stabbing into to her body from all direction; piercing through skin, muscles, bones and her internal organs, again and again in a relentless cycle.

She knew the sensations were all inside her mind, but it felt so real. Hermione felt like she was dying from the sheer agony of it. The pain was so unbearable that she lost her grip on reality. Her mind was so engulfed in excruciating pain that she missed the loud, masculine shout that mingled with her high-pitch screams. The torture hadn't even lasted for four seconds when it abruptly ended. But to Hermione, it felt like an eternity had pass.

She slumped forward as the curse left her; her head hanging limply while tears trailed down her cheeks and fell unto the carpeted floor.

"What did you do to me you worthless, mudblood?!" The man in front of her hissed.

A cry escaped from Hermione's lips as he grabbed her by the hair, and nearly ripped most of it from her scalp. He forced Hermione to look up at him.

Her face was screwed into a pained grimace and defiance when she met his savage glare. As she did so, she wondered why there was a look of pain etched in the man's features.

"What kind of magic did you use on me?" The man all but snarled, yanking her hair again.

Hermione whimpered. The action brought fresh tears of pain in her eyes.

"How is it that I suffer the same injury and pain as you do?!" Her interrogator spat out.

With her eyes glittering in confusion, Hermione stayed quiet. She couldn't answer him because she didn't know what he was talking about.

The man growled in frustration at her silence. He dug his hand deeply into her hair and jerked her head all the way back; her neck felt like it was about to snap.

"I didn't—do-do-anything!" Hermione eventually gasped out and she started to struggle in earnest, trying to remove the grip on her hair. This only enraged the man even further, who pulled harder. At this position, Hermione wasn't able to see that her torturer seemed to be in as much agony as herself.

"I don't know…wha-what you—ar-are talking about!" She managed to choke out, nearly getting suffocated at the lack of air.

"Liar!"

She heard him snarl before the pain on her scalp disappeared when she was released abruptly. Hermione sucked in a lungful of breath. Relief flooding her senses as she could finally breathe naturally while her neck felt strained after it was bent up awkwardly and forcefully.

"What was the name of the spell?" The dark-haired man interrogated, his voice sounded suspiciously hoarse. "What was the spell that you shot at my chest?"

There was no point in lying. So she answered.

"It was a spell that inflicts a deep cut on the opponent. It's my own creation and I'm the only one who can cast the counter curse."

"Stop lying to me!" He shouted at her. "Tell me the truth! What else did you do to me?!"

"But I'm not lying!" Hermione tried to yell, but could only croak in return. Her throat still felt sore from the abuse a minute ago so she cleared her throat before trying again.

"I didn't do anything to you! In fact, I saved your life! Did the snake forgot to inform you, you bastard?!"

The man's nostrils flared in anger; his eyes flashing red.

Hermione blanched. Perhaps it was a mistake to call him a bastard.

"What did you say?"

The hair on the back of her neck stood on end when she heard the man's chilling tone.

"What did you just call me?" He said while he took a threatening step towards her.

Hermione drew back in fear.

"Allow me to loosen your tongue." The man took a step back and lifted his hand.

Hermione's eyes widened.

And then...

He slapped her.

Hard.

The sound of skin hitting skin echoed around the room. The force of the slap was so powerful that it snapped Hermione's head to the side. She remembered the taste of blood bursting inside her mouth before she completely blacked out.

**"Rennervate."**

Hermione groaned out loud, her awareness returning slowly as well as the pain, her face was stinging something fierce and the taste of blood still lingered on her mouth after she had accidentally bit her tongue, when the man had hit her.

She must have been unconsciousness for less than a minute before the man brought her back again. She wondered if this was going to be the norm for the next hours of her life; being constantly forced to awaken.

"Ahh...my little mudblood. Awake again."

She didn't acknowledge the presence of the man who stood near her. Hermione merely stared at the floor, even when she felt him moved beside her.

The soft fabric of his shirt brushed against her bare skin. He was so near to her that she could feel the heat that emanated from him. She could even smell the strong, masculine scent that drifted to her as he circled around her small form. Like a predator that eyed its helpless prey. Ready to devour her alive.

Astonishingly, Hermione found out that the man's scent was a fascinating mixture of parchment, freshly-cut grass and a unique scent that was solely his. And it wrapped around Hermione like a dark promise.

It was a dangerous scent, which subconsciously drew her in.

Hermione decided to breathe through her mouth to shake off the unwanted effect it had on her.

" _What is wrong with me?!"_ She inwardly pondered in annoyance. This was so unlike her to respond to a man she hardly knew, and who was currently torturing her. She didn't have some twisted, masochistic bone in her body. Then why the reaction? As if she could not control herself when she was around this man? What happened to her when she was unconscious? Did this man do something else to her?

Hermione wasn't able to draw a conclusion as her oppressor started his second round of interrogation.

"Who are you?" He asked, his breath blowing wisps of her hair as he brought his lips next to her ear; making her shiver. "Tell me your true purpose why you are here."

If he was trying to intimidate her with his suffocating presence, it was working. Hermione turned her head away from him, gulping air when she realized that she had been holding her breath for quite some time.

"Answer me."

The man's angry growl sounded next to her ear again, and she felt his long fingers firmly grabbed her chin before he forced her to look up at him. This situation was getting old very fast as her brown orbs clash into his cold, blue eyes yet again. Their faces were almost an inch apart that she could feel his breath fanning her cheeks. Other than that, Hermione could see that there was a red mark on the left side of his face, like he had been slapped as well.

Hermione tried to recoil from him, but the man won't let her. The grip on her chin tightened painfully.

"Who are you and who sent you here?"

She just glared up at him in defiance, even when Hermione felt the unease rising up inside her. This was the fifth time that the man had asked about her identity. She understood that not everyone in the Wizarding World would recognize who she was. Despite the fact that her face was plastered in the front page of every Wizarding newspaper - alongside Harry's - as an undesirable during their horcrux hunt, and even afterwards when Voldermort was defeated. Yet this man's questions made her hyper aware that something wasn't quite right, especially when Hermione had discovered that this man was a former Slytherin – unless she was mistaken of course, which was impossible with the amount of green she had seen in his room.

He also appeared to be a few years older than her, perhaps between twenty-five to twenty-six years of age. Therefore, he probably graduated years ahead of her. Nevertheless, the fact that he didn't know her on sight could either mean he had lived in complete isolation for years – and hadn't participated in any sides of the war - or perhaps Hermione's face had changed drastically that it became unrecognizable? Either way, there was a gut feeling inside Hermione that made her decide to keep her mouth shut.

Unfortunately for Hermione, her lack of response provoked another angry snarl from her captor, who looked outright pissed.

"If you will not answer me, then I'll pry the truth out of your mind - to the point that you won't have a brain to function." He told her, his voice dropping into another octave as he drew his wand closer to her head. "Not even your special 'skills' can help you reclaim your sanity."

Hermione's eyes rounded in fear as she the felt the tip of his wand touched her temples; her gaze was still locked into his when he said.

" **Legilimens."**

Instantly, she could feel him probing inside her mind. He had just began sifting through her memories and searching for the information that he needed, when a mental barrier suddenly erupted out of nowhere and blocked his entry - a mental barrier too strong to be hers.

Hermione was astonished when it happened - and puzzled because she hadn't even tried to stop him. She wasn't also a highly-trained Occlumens. She was not able to produce that level of mental fortification just yet. However, something else had stopped the man from prying into her mind, and Hermione was going to bet that it had something to do with how she ended up there in the first place, and the other odd occurrences that she experienced afterwards, which included reacting unusually when around a certain individual.

This was the only conclusion that Hermione could deduce in that moment.

She watched as the person in front of her let out a frustrated growl; clearly dissatisfied with this new turn of events.

He released her chin unexpectedly.

Hermione looked into his angry eyes head on; her gaze still alight with disbelief at what just happened.

The wizard took a step back from her.

"As expected, you are well-versed in the art of Occlumency."

He commented and Hermione didn't even try to deny it. She concluded that it was better to allow him to think that way just to fend off another attempt at legilimency.

However, her constant silence seemed to infuriate the man even more, who probably expected her to answer. She shivered when she saw the murderous rage contorting the man's features that he no longer looked handsome; his jaw clenching and unclenching as if he was considering saying something else to her, but decided against it.

Then without another word, he pivoted around and stormed out of the room. She watched him disappear into his Slytherin bedroom, where she could hear him searching for something.

Hermione started to feel frightened at the prospect of being subjected to a more diabolical kind of torture. She hoped and prayed that he didn't find whatever he was looking for. But her prayers weren't answered as she heard a muffled thump coming from the open doorway and the sound of something being clicked open. Soon after, there was the sound of rustling papers, clinking of bottles and then his soft footsteps.

He appeared with a vial clutched in his left hand. His long strides eating the distance between them in just a few seconds and he was soon in front of her. Hermione could hazard a guess that the vial was for her, and that she wasn't going to like it. Not at all.

She was right as the contents of the vial was finally presented to her.

"I think you know what this is?" Her interrogator asked, looking like he was in a good mood already while he shook the vial. The clear liquid inside swirled as it was shaken.

In Hermione's mind, she added the word 'Bipolar' to the growing list of probable mental disorder that her captor had, while she stared transfix at the nearly-empty vial in his hand.

"Veritaserum." The man stated, a smug smirk curling his lips. "You are fortunate that I have one left in my possession. It would just be a waste of time to torture the answers out of you. Although it was quite enjoyable at first to hear your agonized screams, but I can't afford the distraction at this moment, especially by a mudblood like you."

He looked at her from head to toe in obvious distaste before he announced in a low, dangerous voice.

"I still have other important matters to attend to. So let's make this fast. Shall we?"

Hermione kept her mouth shut; her eyes flickering back to his face, which was already schooled into a impassive façade. But she wasn't fooled by it one bit, as she could see the tumultuous emotions whirling underneath his cobalt, blue eyes.

Beneath that cool exterior, she knew that the man was still trying to reign in his explosive temper.

She was also confused whether to feel wary or glad that this man was using the last drops of veritaserum just to extract information from her. Of course, drinking the truth serum was better compared to the Cruciatus curse and other wicked things that this man can do to her. Nevertheless, Hermione wasn't going to easily submit and let the bastard use the truth serum on her.

"What? Don't you have anything else to say, Mudblood?"

She heard him asked but Hermione merely clamped her teeth together, already prepared for him to do his worse. She felt his hand on her hair again before he yanked it all the way back. Hermione's neck strained, the awkward angle making her eyes tear up. Her neck thoroughly abused.

There was a pop as the stopper was removed from the vial, and then she felt its glass rim pressing against her closed lips.

"Open your mouth!" The man commanded while trying to forcefully shove the serum in between her sealed lips.

Hermione strained away from him, but the hand gripping her hair just yanked harder and she involuntarily let out a helpless gasp of pain, inadvertently allowing the contents of the vial to go down her throat. She started sputtering as some of the liquid accidentally went to her airway.

Block dots started to appear in her vision at the lack of oxygen whilst she continued to hack out the stray liquid. When she thought she was going to faint, the hand on her neck loosen slightly. She inhaled through her nose and unwillingly drank some of the contents to prevent herself from having another coughing fit.

"What an idiot." She heard him say as he finally let go of her hair, assured that Hermione had drunk most of the Veritaserum.

"Who are you and where did you come from?"

Hermione's eyes narrowed at him while she continued to cough. How typical of him not to wait for her to stop coughing before he grilled her with his repetitive questions. Nonetheless, she was helpless as the truth serum instantly took effect. Her mouth moved without her knowledge.

"My name is Hermione Jean Granger and I came from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry." Hermione manage to articulate in between coughs, and watched as something flashed in her captor's eyes at the mention of Hogwarts. Hermione was sure that she saw a red gleam in his eyes before it disappeared.

Without warning, the man was on her; his hands wrapped around Hermione's throat, but his grip was not strong enough to choke her.

"Tell me, was it Albus Dumbledore who sent you here after all?!" He demanded, while Hermione could only stare at him in confusion.

"No." She answered him honestly, frowning. _"Didn't he know that Professor Dumbledore died four years ago? And why would even Dumbledore send her to him? Who was he?"_

"Lies!" The man shouted, and then unexpectedly backhanded her. The force of it wasn't as strong as the slap that knocked her unconscious, and she was glad for the small mercy. If Hermione didn't know any better, she would have thought that the man was holding back, and if he truly was, she couldn't find any reason to warrant such an unusual reaction from him.

Apart from what he told her earlier. _"How is it that I suffer the same injury and pain as you do?"_ Hermione recalled him saying. Perhaps that was the reason, but for the life of her, she couldn't fathom why they were experiencing this odd connection.

With her cheek still stinging from the backhand, Hermione immediately whipped her head to face him, and spat angrily.

"In case you haven't notice, you just gave me a vial of truth serum! I can hardly lie even if I wanted to!"

She knew that it was the wrong thing to say, but her exhaustion had finally caught up to her to the extent that she became reckless. She knew that another renervate from her captor would definitely not work the next time she was rendered unconscious. Hermione just wanted to be left alone and recuperate, but it was obvious that this man had other plans for her.

" _Stupid! Why couldn't you just keep your mouth shut!"_ Hermione mentally scolded herself as she watched the man's expression turn menacing once again. She saw his hand twitch around his wand as if considering the thought of killing her right then and there. Of course, he couldn't do it because of the life debt. Hence, her torturer opted for another solution.

" **Crucio!"**

The sound of her screams filled the room once again as the cruciatus curse hit her squarely in the chest. But like before, it was short-lived. Hermione was relieved when it ended abruptly after a few seconds. When she opened her tear-tinged eyes, she was quite surprise to see the sweat that beaded on the man's brows, and the sight of him grinding his teeth as if he too was in pain, as well as the purplish and red bruising in either side of his face and around his neck, which she could see peaking from his shirt collar. He looked worst, like he had been slapped and choked as many times as her.

" _Yes, he's definitely suffering the same as me."_ Hermione realized with an ounce of satisfaction. She probably look the same as him. Liker her wounds are reflected to him.

"You don't learn, do you?" He gritted out.

To which Hermione automatically answered "Yes.''

She was unable to help herself from answering truthfully even when the question was deemed irrelevant. Her interrogator, however, thought differently.

"You are still showing insolence and disrespect to someone superior to you that I'm sorely tempted to cleanse your filthy, mudblood mouth with poison. Or perhaps you would prefer a curse that will make you swallow shards of glass?"

Hermione involuntarily opened her mouth to answer, but the man covered her mouth with his hand. The unexpected action made her froze. The feeling of his palm brushing against her mouth made her lips tingle at the contact.

"Don't answer that." He said in a low tone. His eyes gleaming darkly.

Hermione remained silent, paralyzed at his close proximity. This wasn't the first instance that the man was caging her with his presence, but something about this time was different. If her dry lips and the increase in respiratory rate was any indication, then she was a fool to believe that her reaction to him was normal.

She was a fool indeed when she didn't think twice about sweeping her tongue to wet her dry lips. Not realizing that her action would have such a terrible consequence.

It was a terrible mistake as her tongue accidentally brushed against the man's palm.

They both went rigid.

The atmosphere in the room suddenly seemed suffocating. There was that unusual tension again that crackled in the air, leaving the occupants in the room with an accelerated heart rate and a difficult time breathing. Hermione prayed that the situation wasn't going to turn worse than it already was as she observe the emotions that swirled in the man's dark, blue eyes; emotions that range from astonishment, disgust, anger and to something else that sent Hermione's heart racing for a reason other than fear.

"I am sorely tempted to cut out your disgusting tongue right about now," Her captor said frigidly. His face schooled into an emotionless mask. "But unfortunately I won't be able to hear your answer if I do that."

Slowly.

Very slowly.

He withdrew his hand.

"Other than that, I really don't want to miss the chance of hearing you beg after all." He stated tonelessly while he pointed his wand at her.

Hermione braced herself.

" **Crucio!"**

And then she was in a world of agony once again. Hermione's screams earlier on was nothing compared to the sheer pitch and volume that she was emitting in that moment. She screamed so hard that she was afraid that she was going to tear her vocal chords.

It lasted longer this time, and Hermione nearly lost consciousness at the excruciating pain. The curse was lifted before she could collapse.

This time, Hermione was wise enough to keep her mouth clamp shut. Tears still poured from her eyes while the lingering pain from the cruciatus curse slowly faded. Like the man, sweat dotted Hermione's forehead. She could also feel the sweat trickling down her nape and back. She hardly even noticed anymore that she was still half-naked. For in that instance, it didn't concern Hermione at all, and judging from the disgusted look on the man's face earlier, she was sure that he would never dare touch her like THAT.

For him, it was like touching something lower and filthier than dung.

There was a long pause as both of them tried to recover from the effects of the Cruciatus curse. They were both heavily panting and sweating like they had run a triathlon. Their endurance completely tested.

Hermione had to sniff the snot that dribbled down her nose as she cried silently. She felt dirty from her previous excursion into the forest, and sticky from the sweat and dried blood that clung to her body. She must be a ghastly sight with her face wet from her tears and blood that dribbled from between her lips, where she had accidentally bit her tongue earlier. Her face still throbbed fiercely from the smattering of contusions that was now beginning to swell and started to darken in colour.

The man was the same, but he took it well than she did. He never cried because she couldn't see any wet trail marks under his eyes. Neither did he scream like her, and just bore the torture curse down with gritted teeth. Although he was sweating excessively beneath his white shirt, she could distinctively see his masculine chest through his mildly drenched clothing.

"Now, shall we continue?" Her captor finally said after catching his breath and wiping the sweat that trailed down from his forehead.

Without waiting for her to answer, he immediately threw a question at her.

"Was it Dumbledore who sent you here?"

"No." was Hermione's immediate answer. She was still wondering why the man still thought that Dumbledore was alive. Perhaps the man had truly isolated himself from the entire Wizarding World for years on end that he missed a lot of news? But most importantly, who was he? Hermione inwardly deliberated as she focused her attention back to her interrogator, who asked her another question.

"Then, who sent you here? Was it Volkovich?"

"No." Hermione answered mechanically. "I don't know anyone by the name Volkovich."

"Stop lying!" The man exploded, his cool demeanor vanishing.

"I'm not lying!" Hermione yelled in return. Merlin, she was getting tired of this!

"Then, tell me why you are here!"

"I arrive here by accident!"

"That pathetic excuse again?!" The man stated, looking at her incredulously.

Hermione looked right back.

"Unbelievable!" He exclaimed in annoyance before his hand shot out and closed around her throat.

Hermione choked as the hand on her neck tightened into a chokehold. She knew that her neck would have turned purple already from the constant abuse it suffered.

"Perhaps I should make my questions more clear." She heard him whisper in an ominous voice, his lips brushing against her ear that made her gulp in a lungful of breath. The scent of him was stronger this time. "What is your purpose to appear inside my house early this morning?"

"I—I told you. It was—It was an accident." She quivered as the hand on her neck trailed slowly towards her nape and disappeared into her voluminous brown curls.

"Wrong answer."

A sharp cry of protest left her lips when her hair was pulled; her neck unwillingly bent. Groaning in pain, Hermione strained at the uncomfortable position.

"Are you here to kill me?"

"No." She whimpered and instantly gasped when her hair was pulled further, making it hard for her to breathe again.

When the position became unbearable to her, she arched her back and was slightly glad when the pain on her neck lessened. She swallowed and sighed in relief when she felt the grip on her hair disappeared.

She was too preoccupied with the pain on her neck that she failed to notice the man's unusual silence.

In fact, she would have figured that her bra-clad breasts were now molded against a hard, masculine chest in a way that would make any lesser male react strongly; but the man was not an ordinary man. He was beyond that as shown by his minimal reaction. The only tell-tale signs that the man was affected by Hermione was the slight stiffening of his body and the unmistakable change in his breathing.

Hermione was still absorbed in her short reprieve to even notice anything out of the ordinary. However, when she felt fingers brushed against her bare hip. She nearly jerked out of her skin, her eyes snapping open to look at the face hovering above hers.

"What do you think are you doing, mudblood?" The man asked in a deep voice as he glowered down at her. "Do you think I'm a simple man to fall for this kind of stupid trick? Especially for someone with a dirty blood like you?"

Hermione frowned in puzzlement. She opened her mouth to answer when it suddenly dawned on her what kind of position she was in. In her attempt to remove the pain from her scalp, Hermione had unconsciously arched her back and had pressed her chests tightly against his in a rather suggestive way, which Hermione hadn't plan AT ALL. Instantly, she tried to recoil away from him like he had something contagious while a mortified blush rose to her cheeks.

Her squirming, however, had an undesired effect on the man. She noted in some sort of curious fascination when her captor's eyes seemed to rapidly darken in colour while he inhaled sharply through his nose. Then, she felt his hand clamped down on her hip to stop her movements.

"Stop squirming, you little minx! Else I'm going to shove you to the nearest wall and take what you are offering! And you wouldn't like it at all!"

Hermione stilled at once at his threat.

"I—I—I wasn't of-offering—I didn't…." She stammered; her face paling. _"Surely, he –he wouldn't?! But he seemed to be disgusted by me earlier.. or was that for show?"_ Hermione thought frantically as she stared into the man's hooded gaze.

_"Merlin…it was, wasn't it?!"_

"Tell me, mudblood…" Her captor ejected her from her worrying thoughts as he whispered menacingly. "Was this your true purpose to cast a spell on me? A kind of spell that would make me react to you strongly?"

Hermione was still frightened to move, much less talk, when the possibility of being sexually violated was higher than she had already imagined.

"Answer me! Did you cast a spell on me to make me physically attracted to you?!" The man shouted savagely, the hand on her hip tightened significantly.

"No, please! I didn't do anything to you! I honestly didn't! Just please stop and let me go!" Hermione said pleadingly, a half-sob and half-cry as she remained unmoving for fear of inciting another unwanted reaction from him.

"Lies! You did something to me! Because my body would never have reacted like this to a disgusting mudblood like you!" He pinned her with a deadly glare, before he proceeded to grab her ass and pulled her against him. Hermione gasped instantly at the feeling of something hard pressing against her bare stomach that shocked Hermione to her core and frightened her out of her wits.

" _Oh God…"_

"Now, tell me…" The man began while he released her almost instantly. His face becoming blank as if he hadn't just pressed himself right against her. "Was this your true purpose of being here? Hmn?" He queried, his voice as cold as ice even when his touch had felt like burning coals a few seconds ago. "You told me you just came from Hogwarts, which could only mean that it was Dumbledore who was behind this after all, correct?"

Hermione didn't answer as her analytical mind rose to divert her from any unpleasant thoughts that just occurred. She began narrowing down her captor's identity based from the information she had discovered and his connection to Dumbledore.

"Because this sounded like what Dumbledore would have done… to shackle a mudblood to me with an attraction spell and another spell that prevents me from completely hurting you by making me suffer in return." The dark-haired wizard informed her disdainfully. "So was this his way of turning me into a blood traitor like him? To lower myself into bedding a mudblood, and perhaps, hoping that I would care for some dirt like you and your kind? Was this his plan all along? Because I didn't peg Dumbledore to be this utterly pathetic with his machinations... He is surely losing his touch."

Hermione had just finished riffling through her memories and new information by the time the man had stopped questioning her, and who was now waiting for her reply. However, instead of answering, Hermione spoke what was currently on her mind. The question that had bothered her the moment she had ultimately arrived with an answer, which was just too impossible to ignore. Her logical side won, even a part of her warned her not to do it.

"Who are you?"

Her question was outright rude, and Hermione soon regretted it because in a flash, her interrogator's hand was on her face; his thumb and his four fingers digging brutally in each sides of her cheeks.

Hermione winced as she could feel his short nails biting into her delicate skin.

"Didn't I tell you to watch your mouth, mudblood?" He said as he dug his fingers deeply into her cheeks until his nails began to cut through skin, his eyes flashing red for a moment

"And stop pretending that you don't know who I am!" He snapped. "Because surely you have been informed of this matter before you were sent here. So enough with the pretence! I grow tired of it!"

"But I seriously don't know who you are!" She managed to protest even when her facial movements were restricted by his biting nails.

"Shut up!" The wizard snarled right into her face while he scrutinize her intently. After a few seconds, he let her face go.

Hermione silently observed when abrasions appeared on the man's face, blood shortly spurting out from his wound, like it had been there in a while and not because it had just appeared out of nowhere. There was a sting on her cheeks to remind Hermione that she had the same wound as him.

Another wound added to the number of stinging injuries on her person.

Hermione reckoned that if she bit her tongue hard enough, she was certain that the man would feel the pain. But she forgo the thought. She was suffering enough as it is, and adding more to her pain by self-inflected wounds would not benefit her, even if it means hurting the man in return.

"It seemed that the veritaserum didn't work as well as I thought." The man remarked in chagrin. "I am now doubting everything you said previously. Not even your name and Dumbledore's involvement sounded credible coming from you."

Hermione decided to remain quite, her eyes had dried out but still red and puffy as she continued to sniff through her nose. Hermione was also astonished at the rate that the veritaserum had seemed to run off its course incredibly fast. It would have lasted for more than an hour, except it had only lasted for about ten minutes. The same thing that occurred with legilimency, where a strong mental barrier had unexpectedly block the man's force entry.

Legilimency and veritaserum were magical approach for truth-seeking, and it looked like something was trying to prevent the man from discovering some vital facts. Because it definitely wasn't Hermione's fault.

Something else was at work here.

"Or perhaps you are impervious to it?" Her interrogator questioned, arching a brow.

Hermione didn't deign him a response.

"No matter. I will find out the truth in other ways." Her captor promised, his eyes glinting with dark malevolence. "I'm not done with you yet. I plan to break you until there is nothing left of you."

A trickle of fear crawled up Hermione's spine at the thought of being subjected to another torture and interrogation session. The images of various and diabolical instruments being use to torture and extract information from her, prompted Hermione to say.

"Please…believe me! I'm telling you the—"

"SILENCE!"

It was the final straw as Hermione's head snapped to the side as she was backhanded yet again. Her mental defence crumbling at last and she began sobbing uncontrollably for the first time since she arrived there. Her analytical mind just couldn't hold the emotional dam that she had kept up for the last hour. The horror of her situation finally sinking into her mind. Everything ached and throb at this point. She felt dehydrated from the amount of tears, sweat, snot and blood which she had shed for the last twelve hours. Her throat was parch and hoarse from her repetitive screaming, talking and pleading. She couldn't take it anymore! She wanted it to stop!

"Please…"

"I said SILENCE!"

Another slap. This time harder than before that it busted her lip, drops of blood smearing her chin, mingling along with her tears and mucus..

Afterwards, Hermione heard him sigh while she remained staring at the floor, tears streaming down her face freely. She was certain that everything on her face was discoloured and swelling by now.

The only consolation she had was to see the same amount of injuries the man had on his face and around his neck. He no longer look so pristine the first time she had opened her eyes with him standing in front of her. He appeared like he had been roughed up from a brawl with his hair sticking in every direction, his clothes disheveled and sweaty while the degree of discolouration on his face suited him very well.

Hermione had gotten a sense of malicious satisfaction of seeing him in that state.

There was a complete silence for a while.

Then, to Hermione's utmost surprise, she unexpectedly found herself wearing clothes.

But of course, it was made of rags.

Hermione stared blankly at the tattered material covering her entire form; not really able to comprehend why the man had finally deemed it necessary to clothed her when he had left her half-naked in the first place.

She turned her towards the man, but he abruptly pivoted around and left. Hermione was still staring after him, when soon after, she began moving from her perched . She floated above the ground as her captor led her somewhere.

Hermione's heart thudded erratically in her chest while her imagination ran amok about this change. She was silently praying to Merlin and whatever deity out there, when she realized that the man had just relocated her into another place.

This time, the man place her in a bare room. There was nothing inside but blank walls, a wide empty space and certainly no windows.

Nothing except for a bathroom commode.

Her new prison cell.

"Unfortunately, I don't have a dungeon around this cottage to hold you." The man informed her bluntly as he finally allowed Hermione to rest her feet on the floor, but the invisible bindings on her wrists and feet remained. "However, this empty room will suffice to serve as your prison cell. I'm certain you are very happy to hear this…"

The bastard observe her for a reaction, but Hermione of course just merely stared at the wall with a blank look on her face.

Her captor definitely didn't like her apparent detachment.

"Although I was tempted to put you on the cage outside the cottage, just to see you shiver from the cold and squirm from the amount of dangerous predators roaming around these woods." He admitted - but it was more of a threat - while his eyes turned contemplative for a second before he shortly frowned in displeasure.

"Nonetheless, despite the temptation, that would have been imprudent of me, considering the fact that I am made vulnerable every time you are hurt. It would certainly be ill-advised on my part if I had left you outside to fend for yourself. Apart from that, putting you outside would have given you a higher chance to escape. Therefore, this was the better option, which I will have to stomach since I find your presence here to be absolutely intolerable. Even the sight of you just makes me want to murder something, because apparently, I can't kill you. AT ALL. Life debt or not, I still can't kill you, which is just completely unacceptable!"

He strode towards her, whipping his wand to conjure manacles in the air, where he proceeded to place them around her wrist and ankles, and attached the chain links to the iron ring conjured on the floor.

After he was done, the wizard commanded her sharply.

"Come closer, mudblood!"

And at his words, Hermione drew away from him almost instantaneously; utter panic seizing her mind.

"I said come here!" Her captor demanded, incensed at her disobedience and pulled her forcefully towards him.

He was too strong for Hermione even when she tried to brace herself on the floor. Her attempt was futile after he pulled her with such a force that made her body smacked against his taller frame.

"Merlin, you are pathetic!" He commented as Hermione struggled earnestly against him, the manacles on her wrist clinking noisily as she tried to hit him with her arms. The man caught it of course and shortly clamped her arms together.

"I didn't realize you were this short." The man remarked unexpectedly. He seemed surprise by this fact as he eyed her from head to foot. He towered more than a head taller than her. "You are what? Sixteen? Seventeen?"

"I'm nineteen!" Hermione shot back as she tried to struggle fervently against his hands, not caring that the manacles were chaffing against her skin.

"Stop struggling!" He commanded and swiftly cast a spell on her. "For a small person, you certainly fight like a hellcat!"

This time, Hermione couldn't do anything to him as her wrists were now bound behind her back and chained to the manacles on her ankles. However, despite the obstruction, Hermione still had a room to move her feet.

Hermione glared at her captor furiously. There was still a fight left in her.

"Damn you!" She screeched, baring her teeth before Hermione launched herself at him.

Without warning, the man grab her by the scruff of her neck and flat-out slammed her against the wall just before Hermione could bite him. Her body jarring at the impact, and she was left slightly dazed while the man held her by the neck against the wall.

"Don't test my patience, mudblood. I have enough of your defiance for one day." The wizard warned her, his eyes glinting red.

Hermione's eyes widened as she stared directly into his eyes. Something about his gleaming red-tinged irises really clicked inside her mind.

" _Merlin…it couldn't be…"_ She thought in terror, her heart pounding loudly in her ears. _"No, it couldn't be.."_

"Now, stay still and let me look at your injuries." She heard him order, but not fully registering his words as her mind whirled with thoughts about the man's true identity.

" _But all the clues pointed out that it might be him…He's a parselmouth, from a Slytherin house, have a pet snake, his features fits Ginny's description exactly, He also have -"_

Her mind came to a screeching halt as she felt fingers prodding against the skin of her neck.

"What are you doing?!" Hermione panicked while she tried to move away from his probing fingers, but found out that she was stuck to the wall by a sticking charm.

Hermione's face lost colour at the dreadful realization. _"Surely, he wouldn't follow through with his threat earlier?"_

"What do you think I was doing, mudblood?!" The man countered indignantly, seeing the look on her face. "I'm trying to heal your injuries! Nothing else! You should be grateful for this! Because normally, I wouldn't heal anyone after torturing them. However, since I have other business to attend to, I can't go about looking injured as I am now."

Hermione took notice about the extent of the man's injuries, and she was immensely gratified to see him in no better shape than her once again.

_"You deserve it, you bastard!"_

"I'm explaining this to you because I don't want you to think that I'm mildly concern about your physical welfare. Because I absolutely am NOT." He gave her a withering look. "And it is sad to say that my wounds wouldn't heal unless I heal the original source, which means I have no choice but to heal you, mudblood."

This was a new information which Hermione hastily stored into her mind.

"But don't get your hopes up because I still plan to hurt you so thoroughly once I'm back. I'm also certain that there must be a way to counter the spell that you have cast on me. Wouldn't you mind telling me what it is?"

Hermione was inclined to spit on his face for his insistence that she was responsible for their current predicament, but she decided against it. She didn't want to infuriate someone, whom she strongly suspected to be far worse than she could have ever imagine.

"If you won't tell me easily, then I will have to find out the hard way, won't I?" He asked darkly. "However, let's save that for next time. Why don't you let me finish healing you so that I will be on my way, hmn?"

Hermione didn't protest this time. She allowed him to step closer to her, and looked on as he clinically inspected the dark purplish mark on her neck. His fingers probing the sore and tender skin while Hermione held herself still to stop from wincing in pain, and to also prevent herself from reacting to his touch. She could feel the lure of the spell trickling into her mind, which made Hermione desire to lean forwards into his touch - even if the thought strongly repulsed her entirely.

Hermione inwardly fought the lure.

"You know…" He began as he methodically healed the blue and purple bruises on her neck, as well as the strain injury in her muscles. "You could always tell me the counter spell for this."

Hermione didn't need to understand what THIS mean because she already know what he was talking about.

"I don't know if it's an act or not, but you seem to be having the same reaction as me." He observed carefully as he caressed her tear-streaked and swollen cheek bones, his intent gaze not missing anything as Hermione's eyes dilated unintentionally at the sensation he generated.

"Hmn…or perhaps you are already attracted to me?" He inquired while he healed the cuts and bruises on her cheeks.

"Of course, not!" Hermione responded heatedly, staring daggers into his icy, blue orbs.

"Oh really?" The man arched a brow at her answer, looking sceptical. "That's hard to believe because… I certainly remember you kissing me while you were still asleep."

"WHAT?!" Hermione said loudly in disbelief and outrage.

"Please lower you voice, mudblood, or you might find it interesting to see another bruise right on your cheek." Her captor threatened coldly.

"What do you mean I was kissing you?!"

Immediately, there was a hand at her throat while the man leaned closer to her ear.

Hermione stilled momentarily.

"I don't want to mar your pretty little neck when I had recently healed it. So kindly refrain yourself from reacting recklessly, do you understand?!" He whispered in warning.

Hermione didn't reply even after a second.

"I'll take that as a yes then."

The hand on her neck vanished as he let her go. She met his gaze as he leaned away from her.

"Were you telling me the truth?" She inquired warily, searching his face for the lies. "Or were you just jesting?"

"Do you think I was jesting? And at this time? Even after I just tortured you?" The man asked disbelievingly.

"Knowing your twisted mind, this must be some kind of mind game you are playing to psych me out." Hermione pointed out softly.

"Perhaps you are right, perhaps not. It doesn't matter. This conversation is over." The wizard stated with finality.

"No, it's not. I want to know why you had to tell me this in the first place." She insisted.

"There's no reason at all, other than to see your reaction." was his blunt reply.

"Why?"

"I don't need to explain myself further to you, mudblood." The wizard retorted sharply. "Now, stop interrupting me so that I may proceed with what I intend to do. Or would you rather I leave some of your injuries unattended?"

"You were the one who was always talking before I even said anything! And I don't really care about if you healed me or-"

There was resounding slap as the man hit her again. Hermione's lower lip began to bleed hard.

"Now, look what you made me do." The bastard hissed in exasperation. "And to think I just healed your cheeks."

Hermione wisely didn't say anything as she looked wrathfully back at him, and just barely noted how the man licked the blood from his now bleeding lip. Hermione's lips twitch at the sight. Her eyes gleaming with venom.

There was a loud sigh of frustration before the man stepped closer and harshly took her chin. Hermione tried to wrest her face away while she could feel blood dribbling down her chin.

"Don't move." He warned her, his eyes were dark as a storm clouds. "Let me fix your lip and then I'm done. Surely, you don't want me to stay longer than necessary?"

She answered him with a hateful glower.

"Well, then. Let's get this over with." He said while he tipped her chin up and pointed his wand at her bleeding lip.

The cut on her lip healed in three seconds at the same time as his.

"That's good." The wizard murmured as he brushed his thumb over the recently healed wound, her lip tingled at the barest contact while Hermione couldn't stop the involuntary quiver that went through her body. Her mind fogging almost instantly.

The man noticed it of course, and his eyes immediately darkened in response while he slowly pulled his hand away.

"I knew healing you was a terrible idea." The man admitted to her in a low voice, his intense eyes flickering to her mouth for one heart-thumbing second before meeting her gaze once again.

"But this is necessary." He informed her, whereas Hermione had to lick her suddenly dry lips as she stared at him. She could taste the blood in her tongue as it swept over the newly healed cut. Her action, however, drew the man's attention back to her lips again, where his stare had turned hungry.

Hermione's breathing became laboured as the man leaned closer to her. The pull between them was too strong that it was hard to resist this time around. Hermione could feel her body responding as the allure engulf her mind. The unknown spell on her was flaring with renewed strength.

"Open your mouth." The man whispered in a deep voice, bordering on seductive.

"No," Hermione could only whisper weakly as she tried to fight the pull of the spell. Her eyes locked into his and felt like she was about to drown into that beautiful ocean, blue eyes.

"Open your mouth."

"Please don't do this…" She pleaded as her resolve weakened, her mind tuning out everything else, except for the man's masculine scent, the feel of his hard body pressing against hers; his blue, blue eyes and that perfect mouth. Her brain flooded with unwanted pheromones.

"I'm not going to do anything except heal you."

"I have a boyfriend." Hermione blurted absentmindedly, still under the thrall.

"What's your boyfriend got to do with this?!" The handsome man in front of her suddenly demanded, breaking the spell.

"What? Aren't you going to kiss me?" Hermione asked blankly, slowly regaining her senses back.

"Of course not! I have more self-control than that! Do you think I would easily succumb to some spell? And to some mudblood no less! Didn't you forget that you disgust me?!" The man said indignantly while he pulled slightly away from her, looking infuriated. "Now, let me see your tongue! Because I know you bit it by accident when I slapped you the first time. I rather enjoy savouring my food without some minor hindrance. Thank you very much!"

The pull between them completely disperse at the angry outburst, which Hermione was grateful for. She thought he was going to ravage her right there, but actually, he was still trying to heal her. Hermione didn't know what would have happened if she did kiss him.

Thus, Hermione obligingly stuck out her tongue and let him heal the wound there, which she had nearly forgotten. She did this in silence while her mind was preoccupied with thought about the strength of that spell that nearly enthralled her to kiss the man. The feeling of overwhelming hatred she had towards her captor was nearly obliterated, when the spell had worked its way through her system.

It was a dangerous effect that she definitely didn't want a repeat at in the near future.

The wizard in front of her was still fuming silently even after he had healed her wound. He then proceeded to unstuck her from the wall, pushed her towards the centre of the room, and where he secured her in place. And all the while, he remained in silence, which was unusual for Hermione because she was used to his long monologue.

The man was obviously giving her the silent treatment, which Hermione found quite puzzling.

Her captor was just about to stride out of the room when Hermione tried to stop him. There were still some questions that were left unanswered, which Hermione needed an answer immediately.

"Wait!" She called out, her chains clinking as she moved forward.

But the dark-haired wizard ignored her, and continued striding briskly towards the door.

Nevertheless, Hermione wasn't easily deterred. The information that she needed was vitally important. She needed to know this because it could mean everything.

"Please! Could you please tell me your name?!"

The man was already at the door when he turned towards her. A ferocious scowl etched on his features.

"Not this again! I thought we were over this?!" He responded irritably. "So stop this farce! Or else I will have to knock you unconscious!"

"No, wait!" Hermione said hurriedly . "Just please answer me this! Just this one question!"

The man waited in antagonistic silence.

"Is your name Tom? Tom Riddle?" She asked at last.

And at the look of ire on the man's face and the flash of red in his eyes, Hermione finally found her answer.

"You dare to call me with that muggle name?!" Tom Riddle said wrathfully as he stalked back towards her. "You dare?! I should kill you where you stand!"

Hermione shrank away from him, but Tom yank her towards him, his wand pointing towards her chest

"You filthy, mudblood! You should be grateful that I have something to do in an hour! Because you will certainly live to regret saying that worthless, muggle name!"

She whimpered helplessly as his raw magic whipped her relentlessly.

"Now, remember what I'm about to say to you…" He said as he threw her to the floor, where Hermione accidentally scraped her elbows at the floorboards, blood welling up from the scratches.

"Because if I hear you utter that muggle name again, I will not hesitate to prolong your torture. And someday, after I find the loophole to your spell, you will wish that you have never been born, mudblood... This I promise you." He vowed to her, his eyes turning into that familiar unholy red.

"And I have a new name now..." He informed her slowly and dangerously. "I hope you would remember this when you wake up again, you filth." He told her as he pressed his wand against her chest.

"Remember who I am every time you scream in pain." He said as he dug his wand deeper against her skin, his red eyes almost looked like it was glowing.

"Remember this...I am Lord Voldemort." He stated with a sense of finality before a red light shot out from his wand and straight to her chest.

Hermione vaguely felt the brief pain, the smell of burnt flesh and singed clothing.. before she knew no more.

There was only darkness.

* * *

**TO BE CONTINUED...**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Hello guys! I hope you really like this chapter! And hopefully, I didn't make the character too OOC. Anyway, please review! I sorely needed your feedback about the story. I also want to thank those who have recently reviewed, favorited and followed this story! I really appreciate it you guys! You always make my day every time I read your reviews and see you guys adding me to your favorites and alerts! I hope you will continue to support this story!


	4. The Strangest Thing (Interlude)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Strange things happen when you least expect it...more so in your dreams.."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Everything from the Harry Potter Universe belongs to J.K. Rowling.
> 
> Warnings: story contains; coarse language, violence (torture and murder), blood and gore, explicit lemons, and I mean VERY DESCRIPTIVE LEMONS. This is going to be a very DARK fic. It's really not suited for those who are gentle at heart and for minors. So be warned.
> 
> Author's note:  
> Anyway, this chapter is only written in Tom's POV. I will make this as an interlude chapter? A chapter that is not truly a chapter. And it's been like more than 10 years since I wrote a smutt scene so I'm a really rusty in that area. I hope the smutt scene is fine, although it is more descriptive than I'm used to writing, but I'm still trying to get used to writing smutt. Anyway, thank you guys for waiting! Here's a reward for those who have been for a long time. Some experimental smutt.
> 
> WARNING: (THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS EXPLICIT PORN-LIKE SMUTT! With Bondage, Oral, and all that stuff.)

* * *

 

**PREVIOUSLY on Mortal Souls….**

_"Remember who I am every time you scream in pain." He said as he dug his wand deeper against her skin, his red eyes almost looked like it was glowing._

_"Remember this...I am Lord Voldemort." He stated with a sense of finality before a red light shot out from his wand and straight to her chest._

_Hermione vaguely felt the brief pain, the smell of burnt flesh and singed clothing before she knew no more._

_There was only darkness._

* * *

Tom glared at the woman lying unconscious on the floor. His wand still pointed at her chest, where he could see a hole through her clothing made of rags, and an angry red mark on her sternum after he had stunned her. He must had put a lot of power behind his spell to have cause that much damage on her.

He grimaced in pain as he could feel the same injury appearing on his chest. Instantly, he flicked his wand and cast a healing charm on the woman, where the injury eventually faded into a slight pink tone on the mudblood's pale skin.

Afterwards, he continued to glare at the woman while his mind worked.

" _I need to find a way out of this spell that she had placed on me…but extracting information from her will be hard. How can I do it then?...How do you about this without being subjected to the same agony as her?"_ Tom wondered. _"Perhaps there might be other spells that will not harm me if I torture her - a loophole that I can exploit…Hmn….I will have to contact my followers for some information in regards to this…. However, it will be too premature at this point to contact them…I still have important things that I must attend to – and speaking of which, I must leave immediately."_

And with that, he quickly strode towards the door, opened it and left the room. Once he was outside, he locked the door with a strong locking charm – which would only open to his magical signature. He then set another ward within the room that would prevent the woman from completely escaping.

" _I can't take any chances with her…She has already taken me by surprise… more than I can count from someone of her impure birth."_ He inwardly admitted grudgingly.

" _ **Was Master successful?"**_ came the hissed from behind him, and Tom whirled around. His eyes instantly landed on Nagini, whose yellow-slit eyes regarded him with an almost human-like curiosity.

Tom hope that Nagini's question did not relate to the outrageous assumptions that she had made prior, where Tom had immediately sent her out for speaking thusly.

" _ **No,"**_ came his short response before he swiftly walked towards his bedroom to get his things, Nagini following closely behind him.

He entered his Slytherin bedroom exactly five seconds later.

" _ **Where are you going, Master?"**_ Nagini inquired when she saw him donned his travelling cloak and took a parcel from his trunk.

" _ **In the mainland. I'm expected to meet someone."**_ He answered as he held the parcel tightly to his side.

A pause as he examined the snake for a second.

" _ **Nagini, if you are staying here, you might as well keep an eye on things since I will be late in coming back. Remember what I told you before. If you notice something odd, contact me immediately. You already know what to do when it comes to this."**_

" _ **Yes, Master."**_

" _ **Good,"**_ He said, twirling on the spot and promptly apparated away.

_CRACK_

Tom appeared at the edge of a small town somewhere miles away from his cottage in Jezerca. However, the second his feet touched the ground, there was a strong tag on his chest, like a string trying to pull him back.

He frowned when he felt it and lifted his hand to place it over his heart, which seemed to be beating fast.

" _What is it this time?"_ He inwardly wondered in irritation as he felt the tag once more.

Tom was already running late for his meeting, and so he decided to ignore the odd sensation. He started walking towards the only place where the magical folks in that region gather – in the"I fshehtë Shikim" pub, where he was supposed to meet the person.

As he took more steps forward, Tom's heart started to pound loudly, and a couple more steps sent him gasping for breath.

" _What in the world is going on?!"_

He halted and stared far up ahead, where he could see the small pub with the painted sign "I fshehtë Shikim" on it.

" _It seemed that something is preventing me from going any further..."_ He surmised as he clenched his hand around the parcel he carried. Tom was still breathing with great difficulty while everything about him spoke of immense displeasure about this turn of events.

" _Another information which I will have to torture out from the mudblood..."_

A pause as he stood there in the middle of the street. Some muggles were out and about in that time of day, and took note of him as he remained standing there. They were watching him in either wariness, suspicion or curiosity. No matter. Tom merely glared at all them, which shortly sent them scurrying away or averting their gazes while they resumed what they were doing previously.

" _Filthy muggles,"_ He thought, scowling. _"I wouldn't be in this disgusting, muggle town if not for the rare books that I need to acquire."_

Thereafter, he began to walk towards his destination despite the difficulty that it was causing him. He hadn't even taken two steps forward when he felt the familiar lurked in his belly.

_CRACK_

The sudden jerk of apparition had Tom lost his balance that when he appeared in his living room a second later, he ended up stumbling and falling on the floor, sprawled like some clumsy fool, where the parcel he had been carrying was unintentionally flung upwards, and then descended on him fast.

Tom caught it in a nick of time before it could hit him squarely in the face. It would have broken his nose due to its bulk and weight. However, his fast reflexes saved him. He might not be a Quidditch player, but he had years of training and experience in the duelling arts. Catching a package mid-air was just a small matter to him. The muscles of his forearm tensed as he held the heavy parcel above him, which contained two books of questionable nature.

" _ **Master?"**_

It must had been an odd sight for Nagini to see Tom, who had just left recently and only to shortly arrive a minute later by falling ungracefully on the carpeted floor no less.

Slowly and carefully, Tom sat up from his sprawled position, and with as much dignity as possible, he stood up. His face remained stoic as he dusted some imaginary dust from his travelling cloak.

" _ **Yes, Nagini?"**_ He inquired with a straight face, turning his attention to the snake, who was lying on the sofa like a domestic cat.

" _ **You are early,"**_ came Nagini's hissed, the tone almost sound blunt coming from the snake. _**"Master said you will be late."**_

" _Apparently, I can't travel too far away from here."_ Tom informed her, silently seething as he removed his travelling cloak, and hang it over the sofa with a snapped.

He was close to storming into the girl's prison cell once more and demand the answers. Yet he didn't. So Tom informed Nagini of his new discovery.

" _There's another spell that the mudblood had cast on me that I am certain was used by the pureblood families in the early Dark Ages. A spell which said to prevent newly-married brides from running away during their wedding night from their husbands they have been forced to marry. But this spell seems to allow longer travel distance instead of the expected one mile distance. I don't know what that mudblood did to me, and I sincerely hope that it doesn't involve me being tied to her forever."_

" _Fuck!"_ The colourful expletive entered his mind; a clear indication that Tom had discarded his mind-filter due to his fury.

Normally, he would never have use those kinds of inappropriate language, especially with a man of his standing. Although occasionally it would only happen when he felt an overwhelming emotion.

Tom pinched the bridge of his nose. Thick lashes fluttering close and obscuring his cobalt-blue eyes as he contemplated the ramifications of his latest discovery.

" _The thought of being tied to that disgusting mudblood is simply too horrific. Gah!... I must find something to preoccupy myself with, lest I might end up strangling the life out of that little bitch."_

There was no point in going back to the mainland in Valbonë Valley and meet the man from the black market, who had been willing to trade with the books that Tom had. And in exchange, Tom would have gotten some new books of the dark arts that was smuggled from Egypt.

His handsome jaw worked tautly while his lips were pursed into a ruthless, forbidding line.

" _I will have to send a letter to that trader later explaining why I hadn't shown up."_ He surmised.

There was a sound of muffled footsteps as Tom ventured away from the living room without a by you leave to Nagini, who watched him disappear into his bedroom.

" _In the meantime, I need to prepare a list of things that I can do to extract information from the mudblood…. Perhaps curses and hexes that I can counter almost instantly, and without causing critical wounds which are hard to heal. "_ He deduced as he opened his trunk and started pulling out leather-bound tomes that he brought with him since he had started travelling. Books containing the darkest spells not known to most wizarding community.

" _There must be some kind of spell out there – a loophole - that will allow me to torture the mudblood without getting hurt myself…and If I can find out what it is, then I can focus more on my problem in creating my Horcrux…"_

He took six familiar books from the stack, and left his room in search for food and a place to read.

" _Time to do some research."_

_..._

Much later, in the kitchen, Tom sat down on a four-seated square table, where more than five thick tomes lay opened in a particular page – pages which depicted some gruesome scenes of individuals who were being tortured; images of fingers awkwardly bent from the knuckle, fingernails being removed, blood pooling from a mouth as teeth were forcefully extracted; a picture of a bloodied and flayed back after a horrendous lashing spell, and another image of a victim being dunk into a body of water while being suspended in the air.

All of which were in complete display as Tom took a bite from his half-eaten tuna sandwich, not altogether affected by the disturbing pictures right in front of him as he chewed his food apathetically.

Carefully, Tom place his sandwich on the small saucer just beside the book he was currently reading, and plucked a steaming cup of tea from its matching saucer. He brought the ceramic cup to his lips and took a sip.

The tea was still hot, so Tom returned it back to its perched and resumed reading the book entitled "The Darkest Art of Magic."

A sound of rustling could be heard as Tom turned a page, where his eyes swiftly moved over the text and landed on something that piqued his interest.

 ** _Sensus Privo Curse_** _or also known as a sensory deprivation curse, which targets the psyche of the victim. It is psychological form of torture that limits or cuts off the intended victim from experiencing any outside stimulus, such as removing their senses of Sight, Smell, Taste, Touch, Hearing, and even Gravity and Thermoception (or heat sense)._

Tom did not finish reading the description because he swiftly pulled the parchment that had been lying on top over the pile of opened books. He took a quill from the left-most of the table, where he dipped it in a nearby inkpot and began writing.

Seconds later, there was a smirked curving at the corner his lips as he read what he had written down.

_3\. Sensus Privo Curse – Sensory Deprivation (from Touch, Taste, Smell, Sight, Hearing, Thermoception and even to Gravity)_

"I can't wait to try this on the mudblood," He said, smirking maliciously as he read through the entire list that he had made so far.

_**Physical Torture (Spells)** _

_1\. Clavo Aufero Curse – Denailing_

_2\. Digitus Occillo Curse – Finger breaking_

_3\. Suspendisse Cursus Velit Hex - Dunking_

_4\. Cutis Flagello Curse – Flagellation_

_5\. Dente Extraho Curse – Tooth Extraction_

_6\. Cutis Cauterio Hex - Branding_

_7\. Lux Caecitudo Hex – Light Blinding_

_8\. Percutio Pressus Curse – Pressure hitting_

_9\. Caesus Curse - Cutting_

_10\. Valide Strepitus Hex– Sound deafening_

_11\. Impetus Sagino Curse – Force-feeding_

_12\. Infervesco Curse - Boiling_

_13\. Pedis Flagello Hex – Foot whipping_

_14\. Strappado Curse – Reverse hanging_

_15\. Asphyxia Curse – Oxygen Deprivation_

_16\. Frigus Hex – Extreme cold exposure_

_17._

_**Physical Muggle Torture** _

_1._ _Starvation/Dehydration_

_2\. Waterboarding_

_3\. Submission Hold_

_4._

_5._

_**Psychological Torture** _

_1\. Exterreri Solebat Curse – Nightmares/ Phobias_

_2\. Acute Humiliation_

_3._

Those were the words that were listed there. A great number of dark curses and hexes, and some other forms of torture that were meant to inflict unimaginable pain and mental trauma on the victim. Nonetheless, Tom was not yet done with his list, and after he finished skimming through all of it, he returned back to his book.

Tom was still smirking when he turned to another page, and the instant his eyes landed on the moving picture there, his smile disappeared. Every bit of him froze as he saw a blindfolded woman strapped from wrist to ankles in chains, and tied to a four-poster bed while she writhed and screamed.

And underneath the picture was the bold letters that read.

" _ **Death by Pleasure."**_

Tom was like in a kind of trance as his eyes run through the text written in the page. His mind raced with thoughts of a certain girl currently chained inside his cottage. His imagination running wild at the implication of a curse to inflict a different kind of torture on the mudblood - a torture that had his heart pounding loudly against his chest while his blood rushed south - towards his groin.

So Tom read the description while an image of the mudblood chained to his bed flashed before his eyes.

 _**Sexus Subduco** _ _is a curse most commonly used for sexual torture. It stimulates and intensifies sexual pleasure of the victim, even to the point of death. Wherein, the curse can only be countered, when the caster engages in sexual intercourse with the -_

_SNAP!_

Without warning, Tom had close the book shut with a snap, and subsequently chucked it across the room, where it directly flew straight towards the window.

_CRASH!_

Shards of glass sprayed over the kitchen sink and outwards as the book disappeared through the broken window panes, but Tom didn't care as he had begun destroying every bit of furniture inside his kitchen. Sounds of breaking glass and wood splintering rent the air as the room around him dissolved into a wreck in his fit of rage.

Tom was infuriated with himself for letting his mind wander into matters that he certainly wouldn't have considered it in the first place.

Yet the vision he had of the mudblood writhing underneath him seared into his very mind that it left a terrible imprint upon his memory, and which sent scorching heat deep within his belly.

Tom knew that it will be inevitable that he would succumb to temptation. But it made him more determined to remove the spells that the mudblood had cast over him before that would happen.

* * *

…."Don't!"

….. "Ugh..ahhh..No, please!"

… "Stop!...ughn…Uhn-uhn—ahh.. Oh God! Ughn.."

…. "Merlin! I can't…Ahh-ugn!"

With a soft pop, Tom's mouth released the pink nipple that he had been sucking. The glistening peak stood proudly under his questing gaze before he turned his attention towards the girl's other breast. His mouth swiftly closing around the nipple without hesitation, where he flicked his tongue over the hardened peak five times before he completely pulled it into his mouth and sucked hard.

The blindfolded girl beneath him let out an undisguised gasp of pleasure, and Tom didn't stopped suckling that delectable crest until he had her straining against the chains that bound her. She moaned loudly, tears trailing down her cheeks at her helpless state. The skin on her wrist already red and tender from the way she had been thrashing since he had started torturing her.

"No more! Please…" The girl pleaded, but Tom ignored it while he used his other hand to cup the girl's other breast. Firm and pert like the other one he's was currently drawing circles with his tongue.

"Ugn..!" The nineteen year-old girl all but mewled as his lips assaulted her perky nipple, loving the way his lips wring every bit of response from her just by simply sucking her exquisitely soft skin.

He began to massage her other breast with his expert hand, silently getting the thrill of having it fill his palm as the girl involuntarily pressed herself into his hand. The girl in question was flushed pink and panting. A sheen of sweat glistened over her naked body, which made her looked like she had been thoroughly ravished - even when it was what exactly happened, while all over her long neck and above the swells of her breasts, there was a smattering of love bites there, after Tom had imbibed himself on that delicate parts of her.

Tom really did love the look of those marks on her pale skin.

Using his thumb and forefinger, he pinched and rubbed the sensitive peak of the girl's breast until it grew puckered. His dark, hooded eyes watching as the girl bit her bottom lip as in utter bliss. Her body arching towards him while his mouth, teeth and tongue worked on her – kissing, sucking, licking, nipping or scraping her lovely nipple, and getting an immense satisfaction of hearing the girl whine in unrestrained passion. The sound she made went straight to his groin, where his manhood throbbed harder. Tom rubbed himself against the inside of the girl's creamy thigh to alleviate the burning ache in his loins. His manhood pressing to the area where he could feel the trickle of the girl's arousal drenching his rigid member.

The woman squirmed underneath him, crying and moaning in obvious need, frustration and self-loathing. Her chains that held both of her wrist and ankles - which was bound tightly to the four poster bed - rattled noisily at her movements. Her head turning from side to side as if to deny the pleasure he was giving her – her tormentor.

The green blindfold that covered her eyes were soaked from the tears that she had, and continue to shed.

Tom like the sight of those tears, more so when she begs.

"No…ugh..please…"

Tom didn't listen to her as he drove her mad with desire through his skilful ministrations. His mouth and tongue worked fast and over her swollen breasts, delighting in the fullness of it inside his mouth and hand.

"Ugh…ngeh…please…ahh...sto - stop…" the girl sobbed, mewled and beseeched him to stop, but he never halted.

Later, Tom finally released the mudblood's nipple with a soft wet pop, leaving a string of saliva there, which he quickly licked away by flicking his tongue over her pert breast. His tongue sweeping and brushing around the aroused tip before he switched back to the other nipple that he had long neglected in favour of the other.

Immediately, he took the girl's other puckered peak back into his mouth - almost hungrily while the woman let out a cry of both pleasure and frustration. Her body jerking upwards at the sensations that his mouth had generated. He like the feeling of her perky breast jingling against his mouth as he suckled and her like a starving man.

"God.." The girl cried out and Tom smirked at that, nudging his long nose against her creamy-white skin as he continued to suck hard, thoroughly enjoying the sight of her pale skin turning rosy pink from his never-ending sexual stimulation.

A second later, Tom could no longer handle the almost excruciating agony of simply rubbing against the girl's thigh. He wanted - No, he needed to press closer to her. He was so aroused that the temptation to bury himself into the girl was getting the better of him. But instead of succumbing to that temptation, Tom shifted his weight and aligned himself above her, and then gradually lowered his hips. His tight buttocks flexing as he moved to that place where Tom had forgone touching.

The girl whimpered the second Tom's manhood rubbed against that tender bundle of nerves hidden between her wet nether lips. Purposely scraping the ridged head of his shaft against that sensitive pearl that would drive the mudblood insane with lust.

" _Shit! She's soaking wet!"_ Tom inwardly growled at the discovery, and nearly all the rationality fled from his mind as his tip rubbed against the silken moistness of the girl's flesh. Her pink, swollen inner lips parted as Tom slid his stiff length against it, which swelled and leaked with her juices every time Tom brushed himself against her.

It felt so damn good that his pre-cum seeped out to moisten every bit of his shaft until the creamy wetness mingled with the girl's.

"You're so wet mudblood that I could just easily slipped all the way inside you by accident." Tom said hoarsely, panting and watching where they were connected. He stared at the way his cock slid over the girl's pink folds repeatedly. The girl's thighs quivering every time he nudge her little nub with his tip.

"What does it-" Tom began but then groaned instead when the girl suddenly started to grind roughly right back at him. The movement sent a bolt of electricity in every nerve-endings of his body that his hands instantly left her breast to grip her buttocks and lifted her up for a better angle. Tom then proceeded to slide his entire shaft over her moist clit and nether lips in frenzy.

"Nghn…ahh..ahh" was what came out from the girl's parted lips the instant he picked up his pace, her body shuddering at the friction they created. Yet could never reached that sexual pleasure she desired. "Ugh ah ahh…uhgn.."

"Does it feel good to have my cock against you, mudblood?" Tom asked, breathing in shallow gasp as he continued to stroke against her sensitized nub and every moist flesh that he could find. "How does it feel like?..Hmn? Do you want me inside you, mudblood?"

The girl could only whimper in response as she moved helplessly against him. Her hands gripping her chains tightly as Tom's length slid over her clit and above her moist entrance, again and again until she was half-sobbing and half-moaning from both pain and pleasure. Pain for the heightened sexual pleasure from the spell that he had cast, which prevented her from reaching sexual gratification.

The girl's breast bounced every time he jerked her closer to him. He watched her threw her head back in undeniable ecstasy. Her face flushing at the intensity of their heated bodies sliding against each other. Her pink nipples was so hard that Tom had an immense need to suckle one of them as he continued to stroke his hardness against her soft flesh. Seeing the mudblood in such a state had made Tom's mind glazed over with potent desire.

" _Fuck! Fuck!"_ was the string of curses that entered in his mind as his control slipped. _"This was not my plan at all! FUCK!"_

He wanted her badly.

The mudblood's downy curls and her soft, wet flesh caused an incredible friction against the sensitive tip of his shaft, sending a jolt of intense heat racing into his loins. He could feel the bulbous head of his manhood thoroughly moistened from both his and the girl's combine arousal. The wet noise of their flesh sliding against each other sounded so obscene, yet it entirely turned him on all the more.

He wanted to take the mudblood right then and there, but he couldn't. He was doing this for a different reason other than simply fucking the mudblood. He still wanted answers from the girl no matter what.

Tom took the back of the girl's knee and place it over his left shoulder, securing it there with his left hand, while his other hand reached out and started to fondle the girl's bouncing breasts. He could no longer resist touching her twin globes of flesh when it was making that vigorous motion every time he slid over her.

He caressed her ivory skin, trailing his fingers over her nipples, rubbing and pulling her taut crest, and then weighing the undersides of her lovely mounds of flesh and kneading them. But at the same time he teased and nudged her little nub with his manhood, and sometimes pressing against her wet entrance that left her petite and enticing body trembling in his arms every time he stroked her roughly. This action would have already sent her into sweet oblivion if not for the fact the spell stopped her from achieving her own orgasm.

She was so responsive to his touch that the temptation to take her became unbearable. She tried to clamp her thighs around him, but her bindings prevented her from doing so. Her legs were spread apart that left her completely exposed and opened to Tom's ministrations. His tall form looming over her short figure as he watched her squirm.

Tom loved to be in control, and having the mudblood in that position and with all her delicious assets displayed, certainly drove Tom delirious with lust and power.

It was a potent combination which he could not deny as he leaned his face forward, and drew the mudblood's nipple deeper into his mouth once more, seeking the desired reaction from the girl he had caged in his arms.

The mudblood didn't disappoint.

"I can't take it anymore!…please! Merlin, enough!" The young woman wept as she lifted her hips, trying to take his stiff manhood inside her. That part of him which would give her the released she had been deprived of, and the ecstasy of being filled to the brink by something large, and made of incredibly hardened velvet.

Tom reacted by rolling his hips, where he stroked his length against the mudblood's thoroughly moist entrance, and he could feel the copious amount of her arousal against his balls as he slid his erection above her tight bundle of nerves.

"Please, stop it! I want-!" The mudblood didn't finish as Tom suddenly bit her nipple non-too-gently, which earned a startled gasp from her. "Uhh!"

Although Tom already knew what she was about to say, and the thought of finally thrusting full-length into her tight heat alone - sent dark, forbidden lust racing straight through his veins and into his groin.

Tom slowed down a bit, trying to regain some semblance of control. He was breathing rapidly when he placed his forehead against the girl's collarbone with his eyes clamped shut. His teeth were clenched tightly as he tried to restrain himself. His mind had hazed momentarily due to the fiery and rampaging desire that shot through his veins of just imagining the tight velvety softness wrapped around his pulsing length.

There were beads of sweat that dotted Tom's forehead while his cheeks were flushed pink as his darkened eyes fluttered opened.

"I don't think so, mudblood…." Tom said thickly as he lifted his head to look at her, regarding her with hooded, lust-filled eyes.

"If you want my cock inside your cunt, mudblood, you might as well tell me what I need to know. If you don't, then you can contend with me by rubbing against you." He replied thickly as he then slowly jerk his hips forward. Teasing her yet again until she was reduced into a sobbing and moaning wreck, squirming and writhing underneath him.

"No more... No more…" The mudblood choked out as she tried to angle her hips to take his thrusting cock into her. And with a surprising speed, she tried to impale herself with his pulsing length. The head of his manhood slipped inside her moist entrance, where he could feel the starting tightness around her vaginal walls.

The tight sensation around his sensitive tip made him momentarily froze up while Tom's mind clouded.

" _Sweet mother of…"_ He thought weakly, trembling above the girl as he tried to stop himself from slamming all the way in.

" _Shit!"_

However, the girl did not stop there as she moved once more to take him completely inside her, but Tom swiftly moved before she could.

"God, mudblood." He rasped out as he clenched her hip tightly with one hand. His brows knitted in concentration as he was torn between withdrawing from her and impaling her entirely.

In the end, her tight heat was too much for him…

The girl whimpered slightly as he began to sink into that tight, velvety softness currently enveloping his ridged tip, which was completely moist from her heighten arousal. Bit by agonizing bit Tom stretched her.

 _"God, you she's so incredibly tight!"_ He grunted at the sensation of her moist heat trying to adjust to his large length. He could feel her tight walls rippling around him, nearly driving him insane at the tight fit.

The girl beneath him seemed to freeze at the invasion. Her entire body tensing while her face gradually turned into a grimace as if she was in pain. Tom slid further and then shortly met some resistance there. He paused, suddenly realizing the reason why the mudblood was so unbelievably and strangely tight.

"No! No, wait!...Don't!" The girl cried out, her voice quavering while her body shook in fear. "Stop!"

Tom groaned. His hands clenching on either side of the girl's small waist.

 _"Fuck, she's a virgin!"_ Tom cursed, watching as new set of tears run down from the girl's blindfolded eyes. He saw her bit his lip, when the tip of his cock nudged against her hymen. _  
_

"NO!" She screamed while she cried, recoiling from him. "DON'T!"

Tom breathe with difficulty through his nose, at the effort of reigning in the mad rush to thrust forward and break that thin membrane, which separated him from the tightly packed muscles of pure heaven just deep within.

However, Tom gritted out instead of doing that exactly.

"If you don't want me in your cunt mudblood, then perhaps I will find another way to have you."

Swiftly, Tom removed the girl's knee from his shoulder and let go of her hip. Afterwards, he pulled out from her tempting heat and hastily crawled upwards, where he knelt above her chest area, placing both his powerful thighs on either side of her upper torso, his knees brushing the sides of her breasts.

"I grow tired of hearing your lies and protest, mudblood. Now, its a good time to shut your mouth." Tom said as he pulled her hair roughly back, pushing his pulsing, moistened length right in front of her face - she could not see it of course since she was still blindfolded.

"Here's something to gag you, mudblood. Suck my cock like you were made to do it. Like the little inferior filth that you are." Tom commanded, pressing the tip of his arousal right into her lips, where she could probably smell both his and her arousal after their repeated grinding, and even perhaps taste both of their juices combine if she licked him. The thought of her tongue running around his turgid length sent another jolt of liquid fire racing through his veins that he impatiently jerked his hips forward.

The mudblood tried to move her head away from his stiff member. Her chains clinking loudly, but Tom was not having none of that, and with a ruthless tag of her hair, the girl underneath him let out an involuntary gasp of pain. Tom took advantage of it and shove his manhood into her mouth.

The girl gagged as it entered into her wet cavern.

"Fuck!" was what left Tom's mouth at the feeling of her wet mouth wrapped around his erection, where the girl's tongue unintentionally brushed across his tip and the throbbing vein visible in his manhood.

Still gripping the girl's hair tightly with one hand, Tom braced his other hand on the headboard while he started pumping his hips forward. A trail of sweat slid down from his neck and down the flexing muscles of his broad shoulders and back while he drove his cock downwards into the girl's mouth, who had adjusted to the breadth of him.

A second later, Tom had to suck in a lungful of breath, when the mudblood unexpectedly started to licked and sucked him with unexplained ardour.

The sucking sounds she made was blatantly vulgar as she moved her mouth up and down his length, licking and stroking him with her tongue and mouth, sucking and flicking the head of his cock, and especially the little hole where his pre-cum wept out.

The feeling of her tongue on him made every fibre of his being tingle and heady with pure lust, until Tom was the one moaning, grunting and hissing loudly this time with his head thrown back. His stomach clenching from the sensual pleasure that set his veins on fire.

The wide expanse of his shoulders and chest were tensed while his back rigid as his flexed his taut buttocks in time with his thrust. He could feel his balls tightening as he neared his orgasm. The pleasure at the tip of his erection built up as the girl used her talented teeth, mouth and tongue to stimulate him and try to wring an orgasm from him.

"Damn, mudblood. I love your fucking mouth." He moaned, gripping her curls tightly with both his hands as he drove his hardness into that hot, wet hole that engulfed him.

He felt the mudblood hollowing her cheeks to suck him hard that almost had him reeling from the strength of it around his stiff member, while he buried himself into her repeatedly, and with a desperate need of a drown man. From the tip of his shaft and all the way to the base, the girl took him until he hit the back of her throat and even a bit further down, where he could feel her swallow every time he drove deeper into her.

"Harder, suck harder. Yes, that's it…ugh..ahh.. I'm almost there. Sweet merciful God!… that feels so goddamn good! Ugh…ahh…" Tom said hoarsely, grunting as he gripped her head, forcing the girl to take all of him until her wet lips smacked his balls. His hips jerking unevenly as he could feel the coil on his navel began to unravel while the liquid fire inside him built up into an inferno of heat.

It was any second now before Tom would go over the edge.

"After this…I'm - gonna have you….ngh.. give me..ugh.., mud-You are…ugh..driving me …crazy! Fuck! -ugh.. ahh ahh…" He drove hurriedly into her wet cavern, feeling the scraped of her teeth and the flicked of her agile tongue around his tip, where it sucked and stroke the rest of him as he entered.

Tom was so lost in his own all-consuming pleasure that he did not notice the change in the room. Instead of lying down on the bed, he was now standing up while the girl - who was pleasuring him - was kneeling down in front of him.

Her chains and blindfold gone.

A few seconds before he could spill his seed into the mudblood's mouth, he felt a slender hand kneading his muscled buttock and forcing him to move faster and deeper. His body was tensing as the heat in his groin intensified that he was making noises that he would not have normally made during sex.

Tom felt like he hadn't had his cock sucked before. But the way the girl was doing it, made him act like a fucking virgin.

A feminine hand, slid up from his strong thigh, over his lean stomach and up towards the hard contours of chest, where sharp nails and fingers began playing with his nipples.

Immediately, lust-clouded blue eyes snapped open at the sensations of those pair of hands, Tom looked down towards the girl, who was now kneeling in front of him, unrestrained and without the blindfold on.

His shocked gaze met a pair of glowing yellow eyes and a sultry smirk from the vixen who had his cock in her mouth. But he didn't have time to contemplate over this matter, because with one move, the girl grabbed hold of his ass and shove him all the way down her throat and used her gagging reflexes to milk him dry.

"Fu—UGH!" Tom gave a masculine shout of ecstasy. His cock tightened and jerked before he completely emptied his seed into the mudblood's ravenous mouth. His body wracked with tremors as the mind-blowing orgasm swept through him. The corded muscles of his shoulders and neck stiffening while he forced himself to stand up despite the fact that the intensity of his orgasm left him nearly weak-kneed. He might have seen a white flash beneath his closed lids as his hips were roughly pumped back and forth by the hands that gripped him, his still pulsating length stroking the insides of the girl's mouth to prolong his pleasure.

"Ugh..ugh…"

A low groan escape his lips as his dark, cobalt-blue eyes finally opened and landed on the girl kneeling in front of him. The mudblood met his stare with her odd glowing, cat-like eyes. Her nails were digging into his butt cheeks as she continued to suck and swallow most of his cum down, which sent him into another quivering mess as her tongue assaulted the sensitized head of his shaft.

And the sight of her gulping down his seed brought another frisson of pure, unadulterated lust shooting through him at the image she presented.

Tom like the sight of her kneeling in front of him. He like it a lot.

The girl didn't stop bobbing her head over his still pulsing manhood. She hallowed her cheeks to draw him tightly into her mouth until his eyes rolled and the muscles of his stomach clenched at the sensation. She did this at same time she raked her sharp nails over his nipple as she gulped every last drop of his seed.

When his heart rate had finally slowed down, Tom stroked her chestnut curls like she was some kind of pet as his heavy-lidded gaze observed her.

The mudblood didn't stop until she was satisfied that she had cleaned every bit of him. It was a minute later that she slid her mouth out from his slightly stiff length with a wet pop before the girl asked him in a voice that wasn't hers.

"How does it feel like to come into my mouth, darling?" she inquired seductively, trailing her hands over his shaft and stroking it. Tom's length jerked at the contact and hardened once more, ready for another round.

Impatiently, he grabbed her, bringing her inside the circle of his arms where he moulded his hard contours against her soft curves. Her breasts wound tightly against his chest while his arousal nudged and flattened against the soft skin on her creamy stomach.

"God, I want you..." Tom stated in voice roughened by need, and shortly placed a hand behind the girl's head, leaning forward for a devouring kiss. Not even caring that she had just swallowed most of his cum down her throat.

The girl laughed all of a sudden - a cackle more like - as she leaned into him saying.

"You should have known better than to bound your soul to me, Merlin." She said just right before a knife appeared in her hand and stabbed him in the chest.

...

Tom woke up with a gasp. His body covered in sweat while his heart beat erratically. After a second or so, he finally noticed the raging arousal currently tenting his pyjama bottoms. He lay there panting in his four poster bed. His legs tangled in his Slythering-green bed sheet as he tried to gather his chaotic thoughts.

It was in this moment that Tom noticed something. To his utmost disgust and embarrassment, he could feel the familiar sticky, wetness that clung to his skin and the front part of his pyjamas.

Apparently, he had just ejaculated in his sleep.

Even when he had already orgasm, his manhood still strained hard against the cotton cloth of his sleeping wear - not yet completely satisfied - while the drenched cotton cloth chaffed against the tender tip of his long shaft.

" _Damn it!"_ Tom mentally cursed as he carefully sat up from his king-sized bed, where he swung his legs to the side and sat down at the edge of his four-poster. His elbows rested on top of his knees as he buried his hands in his mess of dark locks - which was thoroughly dishevelled, probably after he had thrashed in his sleep.

" _What was that dream all about?... I would never dare touch the mudblood in such a way!"_ Tom thought furiously, trying to dispel his arousal with feelings of revulsion and anger towards the girl in particular, but it didn't do neither. In fact, just thinking about her and remembering the dream made him a little hot around the collar. He shifted his hips as he felt his arousal responding to his wayward thoughts.

" _I shouldn't have read that book! Now, the spell that the mudblood had cast on me is forcing me to react like this!"_ was his angry conclusion while he rubbed his fingers over his knitted brow. A fierce scowl etched on his handsome features.

The dream Tom had was so vivid that every part of him still tingled from the aftermath of it. He could almost feel the silken smoothness of the girl's tongue and mouth enveloping his stiff manhood, like it really happened not a moment ago.

Abruptly, Tom sat up and walked towards the bedside table, where he had placed his wand.

"I need a shower." He decided as he moved out from his room towards the bathroom.

...

Later, Tom stood under the shower of water with his arm propped up in front of him while his other hand pumped over his stiff manhood.

Tom gritted his teeth in both pleasure and frustration.

He had already given up trying to imagine every women he had taken to bed while he tried to finish himself off. But alas, every time Tom remembered his sexual encounters with any of his lovers, they always end up looking like the filthy little mudblood just a door away.

The mudblood he's currently imagining fucking up.

Tom's hand pumped faster over himself as he neared his orgasm. His balls tightening once more as he imagined taking the mudblood from behind, where he could thrust into her deeply until he would hit that secret spot inside her. Again and again he would bury himself into her, harder and harder that he could feel the mudblood's vaginal walls clamping down on his length as she came screaming. Her delicious body so tight that it drove him over the edge a second after she orgasm.

A groan left Tom's mouth as he finally spilled his seed into his hand. He still kept on moving his hand up and down, and running a thumb over the tip of his member as his orgasm washed over him while the image of the girl arching and shuddering underneath him fleeted in his mind.

After a few more seconds, he leaned his forehead on the bathroom wall, trying to catch his breath. Droplets clung to his thick lashes, clamping them together while his cobalt-blue eyes stared into nothing. His dark hair was soaked and sticking against his flushed face while the lines of water continued to slide over him. Rivulets of it slipped over the toned muscles of his wide shoulder and back, while there was some that trickled over his chest and stomach, and even towards his strong thighs and the back of his legs.

Tom stood there under the shower for nearly a minute just staring off in space.

Then…

With his face shifting into an expression of cold fury and self-loathing, Tom suddenly punched the wall in front of him. He punched it again and again, until his knuckles were badly bruised and scraped; blood oozing from the scratches.

" _That mudblood is going to pay for what she did to me…for reducing me into this pathetic state!"_ He thought in rage while he dropped his knuckles down, red stains dripping into the cold tiles below, where it mingled with the running water and slipping into the drains.

...

The following days afterwards, Tom started drinking a dreamless sleep potion every night to prevent himself from having dreams of that sort again. He had also decided to start with his first experimental torture with the mudblood - a method which gave him the time to recover from that revolting dream before he could face her.

So the next day Tom had started with the first torture method that came to his mind…

_**STARVATION and DEHYDRATION.** _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note:  
> I hope you like this chapter…Hopefully, you find the smutt scene fine, although I'm still getting a hang of writing it. Sometime in the future, I plan to write plotless smut that involves Hermione doing a foursome (?) with Tom Riddle Jr., Draco and Lucius Malfoy. LOL. Hopefully someone reads that one when it comes out. I want to know what you think of the smut because I do plan to have a lot of smut scenes in this story, and not all of them are vanilla. I do plan to do some experimentation with writing it…which involves a lot of edge play (a new term that I learned after researching BDSM stuff in the internet.)..I also learn interesting things like blood play, knife play, fire, wax and even ice play…which will perhaps come out in this story…along with some Bondage scenes. So, who wants Tom getting tied? Anyone? *wink* *wink*...nyahaha…I feel like I might went overboard with the description….So, please tell me what you think… Hopefully it didn't turn off anyone…
> 
> Moreover, I'm using British English spelling when writing this story, so you will notice the difference in spelling. Like for example pajamas (US spelling) is written as pyjamas in British English, also the favourite, dishevelled, favour, moulded, travelling are written in British English spellings.
> 
> TRANSLATIONS: (English to Latin)
> 
> (AN: Translations are not accurate since I got it from google translate)
> 
> 1\. Clavo (Nail) Aufero (Remover) Curse
> 
> 2\. Digitus (finger) Occillo (break) Curse
> 
> 3\. Suspendisse Cursus Velit (Dunk)
> 
> 4\. Cutis (skin) Flagello (whip) Curse
> 
> 5\. Dente (tooth) Extraho (extraction) Curse
> 
> 6\. Cutis (skin) Cauterio (brand) Hex
> 
> 7\. Lux (light) Caecitudo (blindness) Hex
> 
> 8\. Percutio (hit) Pressus (pressure) Curse
> 
> 9\. Caesus (cut) Curse - Cutting
> 
> 10\. Valide (powerful) Strepitus (noise) Hex
> 
> 11\. Impetus (force) Sagino (feed) Curse
> 
> 12\. Infervesco (heat) Curse
> 
> 13\. Pedis (foot) Flagello (whip) Hex
> 
> 14\. Strappado Curse
> 
> 15\. Asphyxia Curse
> 
> 16\. Frigus (cold) Hex
> 
> 17\. Exterreri Solebat (Nightmare) Curse
> 
> 18\. Sexus (sex) Subduco (deprive) Curse


	5. The Seduction Mission

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How far would you go to try and escape?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own anything from the Harry Potter Universe. They all belong to the lovely J.K Rowling. I also do not gain any profit from writing this story. This is solely for entertainment.
> 
> AUTHOR'S NOTE: I'm really sorry guys for the long update! It's taking me a long time to write my stories now. I'm such an OC person that I usually end up more than a week or even a month in trying to convey my ideas into words, plus I had this habit in adding more and more details. I don't know what fuck happened to this chapter, but I have already written it and so I'm going to post it no matter how bad this chapter turned out.
> 
> If you have any question regarding this chapter, you can go to my tumblr account. (bloomsburry-dhazellouise.tumblr.com) Or you just want to talk to me about something random, don't hesitate to ask. You can also check out the picture of Morgana le Fay in there alongside Hermione. Or just look into my edits and other stories I'm working. I'm also accepting requests for making banners and book covers. If you are a writer and you want a book cover or a banner done, feel free to send me a request and let's talk about what you want me do with your story cover/banner.

* * *

**WARNINGS: GRAPHIC DEPICTIONS OF VIOLENCE, BLOOD, GORE, AND RAPE. DO NOT READ IF YOU ARE SENSITIVE TO THIS.**

* * *

Hermione woke up to the feeling of pain blossoming on her left hand. Gingerly, she peeled her eyes opened and found out - to her complete dismay - that she was in the same room. She had desperately hoped that she was in some kind of nightmare, a nightmare that her disturbed mind had conjured up.

But it was not to be.

Hermione was really there, held captive by the very much alive and young Voldemort.

 _How was it possible? How was I able to travel back in time?_ The only thing Hermione recalled was being engulfed by a white light after she had taken the rock from Luna's hands.

_And where was the rock now? What happened to it?_

These questions ran through her mind while she slowly sat up from her curled position on the floor. The chains on her wrists and ankles clinking noisily as she directed her attention to the fresh wound that appeared on her left knuckle.

Hermione closely examined the injury. The back of her left hand was badly scraped and bruised. Blood trickling out from the open wound. Biting her lower lip, she felt the sting when her fingertips grazed against the abrasions.

A moment later, she flinched when her fingers encountered the thin bits of skin clinging like a flap on the red scrapes on her knuckle. One skin around her knuckle had been peeled clean off, revealing only redness and blood. Apart from the abrasions, the surrounding area was red and swelling. It would become purplish, or yellowish-green bruise when it was not tended to at once.

It hurt, but it was nothing compared to the excruciating pain she had suffered at the hands of her captor. Likely, judging from the depth of the wound, Tom Riddle must have punched a wall repeatedly to cause such extensive damage on the epidermis and the underlying dermis beneath.

Hermione wondered what made him do such a thing…

**oooOOOooo**

Hours later….

The wound on her left hand was gone. It was only there for no more than thirty minutes when it suddenly vanished; a clear indication that the bastard had healed it. Though it was still unclear what had caused the obvious self-inflicted injury, for it was certainly not a result from an accident.

Later, with nothing to do in her improvised cell, Hermione had then spent her time surveying the room, examining the chains on her wrists and ankles, as well as the iron rings melded to the dark oak floorboards, trying to search for a way to exploit a weakness that she could use to free herself.

But Hermione found nothing.

After nearly an hour of inspecting the chains with meticulous care, she discovered that Tom Riddle had made it specifically for her.

It was unbreakable, warded and could only be removed by the man himself.

Meanwhile, the iron ring and the rest of the room were intricately interwoven with layers upon layers of magical wards. It was so strong that Hermione felt the prickle of it against her skin every time she fidgeted. Her movements were carefully monitored.

No doubt that she would have a hard time escaping from there.

The room was thoroughly secured.

Regardless, Hermione was not giving up just yet. Even when the odds were stacked against her, she was going to use whatever it takes to get out from there. Hence, she bidded her time, silently waiting for her captor to enter her cell so that she could enact her plans.

Yet he never did…

Hermione didn't know how many hours had passed by. She didn't know whether it was morning, afternoon or evening when there was no window in her cell to see a hint of sunlight creeping across the walls to determine the time.

Her stomach grumbled; it had been grumbling for a while now. She was getting hungry and her lips were parched from the thirst.

Instinctively, Hermione knew that Tom Riddle was not planning to provide her with food or water at all.

 _Is he planning to starve me to death?_ She wondered, but after a period of contemplation. She deduced that it was probably not his main intention.

He must be doing this for a different reason altogether, other than physically weakening her.

Seeing that they had this odd connection between them, surely he wouldn't want to subject himself to suffer the same effects as her?

 _If I am to go on days without food or water, it will affect him as well right?_ A frown marred Hermione's brows as she pondered it over, sifting through her memories and taking out the profile that she had compiled regarding the man who held her captive.

Based from the information that she had recently gathered and remembered from what Harry and Ginny had told her, as well as her observations when Voldemort had been alive and in power, Hermione knew for a fact that Voldemort didn't do things without a good reason.

 _He is doing this on purpose to test how far this connection goes between us. Perhaps to find a way out from this unknown curse when the truth is no longer forthcoming._ She critically perceived. _Obviously, he will never believe me, especially now that he knows I'm a muggleborn._

If that's the case, she might as well focus on surviving.

Hermione mentally calculated her chances of survival, recalling from her readings that humans were said to survive 3-4 weeks without food and 3-5 days without water.

However, without both, they could die within three days or even less. The same thing could happen to Hermione if she wasn't going to do anything about it.

_Did Tom Riddle think that I was going to sit here idly and wait for him to give me crumbs from his table, like an obedient little dog? If he is, then he had another thing coming._

Probably she was going to allow the despicable man to play the jailer for a few more hours, but no more than that. The lack of food and water would certainly sapped what remained of her energy, which would be a hindrance when Hermione would try to escape from there.

She needed her full strength when it was time to launch an attack, and her only chance of freedom was through that door.

Nonetheless, the only way it would open was if Hermione could somehow lure Tom Riddle into the room with her, and the key to accomplishing this task was using the element of surprise.

A plan bloomed inside her mind. All Hermione needed to do was execute it in perfect timing and exact precision.

She must anticipate for any possible scenarios.

Hermione must be ready.

Her legs had gotten numb from the lack of mobility, so Hermione stretched her legs in front of her and started extending and flexing them, the chains jangling and sliding across the floor in tandem with her feet. She felt the pins and needles sensation as the blood rushed down and began circulating in her legs.

Once she had regained the normal blood circulation in her lower limbs, Hermione sat down in sitting position that she could easily launched herself to her feet, and started examining the iron chains that connected her cuffs wrapped securely around her wrists.

It was roughly a meter in length, a good size for what she had in mind. Nonetheless, if it had been too loose, then it still wouldn't matter to her. Hermione had to merely wrap the extra chain links around her wrists to shorten it, and it would serve its purpose.

Soon after, she tested the chains. It clang loudly when she pulled it tautly between her hands, familiarizing the cool and smooth metal and searching for the best area to clasp on.

Fortunately, dehydration didn't make her palms sweaty, which allowed Hermione to have a firm grip on her improvised weapon.

She licked her parched lips. Swallowing hard, she ignored the persistent growling of her hungry stomach.

Now, it was the time to enact her plans.

Hermione slowly pushed out her tongue in between her teeth, feeling the flat edges of her upper and lower teeth scraping against it, and thinking all the while:

_Do not hesitate. Never hesitate. You must do whatever it takes to escape from here. If you stay here for long, he will know your secret... Do not let him have it, or you will have no future to get back to._

Breathing sharply through her nose, and silently praying to Merlin that her plan would work, Hermione opened her mouth wide, and snapped her teeth shut, biting her tongue _Hard_.

Instant agony exploded from where Hermione had bitten. The soft flesh of her tongue giving way as her central and lateral incisors pierced through it, although not enough to completely snip the tip of her tongue, but it was certainly enough to draw Riddle's attention.

Blood flooded Hermione's mouth, which she belatedly thought, quenched her thirst. She swallowed a bit of it down her parched throat.

Nonetheless, since the tongue contained a number of blood vessels and nerve endings, the person could potentially die from blood loss when it was severed completely.

However, if Hermione wasn't careful, the dangerous amount of blood rushing down her throat would probably do a good job of clogging her lungs and choking her to death.

Hermione didn't plan to die that way.

Hence, she leaned forward, her mouth opening wide and allowing the blood to come pouring down her chin and towards the dark oak wooden floor. The tip of her tongue, one and half inch of it, was hanging limply from her mouth. The deep cut throbbed painfully and persistently, but Hermione ignored the pain in favour of the burgeoning need to get away from there.

Warm liquid continued to fill her mouth - thick and heavy. She sensed it trickling down her jaw and towards the growing pool of blood in front of her.

_Drip - Drip – Drip_

Watching the red drops fall, Hermione waited for her captor to come and investigate.

For certain, Tom Riddle must be experiencing the same thing as her.

No sooner than she thought of it, the door to her prison cell opened with a loud _BANG!_. The wall and the doorframe shook from the force of it, and in walked her nightmare.

Evidently, the bastard had staunch most of the bleeding with a cloth pressed between his lips. The cloth was sodden and tinted red. Blood speckled his chin, down his neck and stained the front of his navy blue, buttoned up long-sleeved shirt.

He looked murderous with rage when he strode towards her, his wand already out and pointing. But he couldn't speak, not with the tip of his tongue nearly cut in half, and especially not with that piece of fabric stuffed inside his mouth.

Inwardly, Hermione felt a tickle of gratification at his forced silence.

She waited for him to come near her, still leaning downward and letting the blood out from her mouth along with a string of saliva. Hermione must be a grisly sight to behold, with the tip of her tongue hanging limply by a thin shred of flesh from the lacerated area, her mouth and chin covered in scarlet, while in front of her lay a small puddle of her own blood. She must looked like she came from a cheap horror movie.

The psychopath halted in front of her, ignoring the pool of scarlet as he stepped over it.

No words were spoken.

Although the tendril of his dark, malevolent magic was enough to tell her that Tom Riddle was close to killing her right there. Palpable and suffocating, his malignant magic nearly made Hermione wanted to balk from the weight of it.

With her still kneeling down, he yanked her hair hard and position her head in a certain angle that would allow him to heal her tongue.

Hermione's eyes watered at the painful grip on her hair and scalp, but like everything else, she paid it no mind.

She _must_ escape from him.

Forcefully and without hesitation, she tagged her head from his hand, tagging hard until she felt a flare of pain erupting from her scalp when some of her hair was ripped from the roots. Yet she did not yield, despite him trying to pull her hair violently back, pressing the tip of his wand into her tongue.

It stung as the wood accidentally nudged against the cut. A moment after, she felt a warm tingling sensation there, and realized that Riddle had just use a non-verbal spell to heal the wound.

Nonetheless, she didn't wait for the gash to knit back together because she was already on the move.

This was what she had planned all along: to let him heal her first before attacking.

Fast as her body would allow, she launched herself at him, her teeth bared like a feral animal and bit on his hand, just below his thumb. She sank her teeth deeply until she felt his warm blood bursting into her mouth.

His wand clattered to the floor.

She heard him shout, but the piece of cloth inside his mouth, stifled most of it. A second later, Hermione ripped her teeth away from his hand while more blood oozed from her mouth and down her chin. Belatedly, she felt the same injury appearing on her left hand.

She spat out his blood into the floor just as Tom Riddle spat the handkerchief from his bloodied mouth.

He started shouting at her then, his words garbled and incoherent, most likely his tongue hadn't completely healed yet like hers as he made a grab for her.

"Yo mavad betch! Yo vel pie -"

That was what all Hermione needed, him leaning down towards her with his tall frame bending slightly. She needed him in the same eye-level as her.

Buoyed by the sense of sheer desperation, Hermione propelled herself to her feet, slamming the top of her head at the bottom of his jaw. She heard the unmistakable _clack_ as his teeth and jaw snapped shut, then she saw him stagger back.

But Hermione was still moving.

With her chains clanking loudly, Hermione leapt towards the wand on the floor, hope kindling inside her when her fingertips brushed the bone white handle.

 _Freedom_ just within her grasp…

Then, Tom Riddle crushed that hope by slamming right into her, tackling her from behind.

They both fell down.

**_CRASH!_ **

The wand slipped from her fingers and rolled away towards the far wall.

The unexpected move knocked the breath out from Hermione when she found herself flattened on the ground, her face pressing against the wooden floor boards.

Still dazed after her forehead had hit the floor, Hermione lost a few precious seconds in trying to orient herself, which gave her captor the time to immobilize her.

The bastard pushed her head further down. The weight of his hand crushing the side of her face flat against the rough wood. At the same time, Hermione felt his weight shifting on her back, using his bulk to incapacitate her and straddling her effectively to secure her in place.

From the corner of Hermione's eye, she watched him leaned down, his eyes burned ruby red while his visage had turned absolutely savage.

In a flash, she started bucking and wriggling against him, trying to dislodge him from her back, using her hands to claw and rake whatever part of him she could reach behind her. She twisted a bit, half-facing him to provide her a good visual of her human scratching post.

They struggled and grappled in silence. The sounds of their heavy breathing, gasping and grunting was the only noises they could emit when their tongue was still knitting slowly.

Hermione was able to grasp a handful of Riddle's hair for a fraction of a second. Even so, as slippery as a snake he hailed from, he easily slithered away from her grip. His dark wavy locks too silky and too short for her to grasp unto.

As he moved away, her other hand found the side of his neck. She tried to scratch him with her short nails. But like before, he eluded and instead her hand grasped the collar of his shirt.

She wrenched the cloth apart, hearing it tore wide open while a few buttons popped out from his shirt. A button dropped down the middle of her shoulder blades, some went flying and tumbling onto the floor with a distinctive clatter.

Riddle reacted by pressing heavily down on her once more, his strong and merciless hands took hold of her wrists and snapped them close together. And with the use of one hand wrapped around her wrists, he slammed her arms on the floor just above her head, and restrained her right there.

Hermione hissed at the jarring sensation from her arms, though she hadn't stopped twisting and turning underneath him. She felt his legs clamping closely on her to stop her movements, where his knees accidentally brushed against the sides of her breasts.

At once, she froze, awareness flooding her senses at their compromising position.

There was a trickle of alarm shooting up her spine when she realized how defenceless she was in that moment.

Wearing only a rag, almost the same cloth Dobby had worn when he was still alive, Hermione suddenly felt vulnerable. The thin grey clothing didn't provide the necessary barrier that she really needed. With the lack of sleeves and its mid-thigh length, she was as good as naked. Even when she still wore her black underclothes beneath the drab grey cloth, but it was not enough to assure her.

If the thought ever cross his mind, Riddle could just as easily tear the cheap fabric from neck to hem, and be done with it and her. Nonetheless, once more, Hermione curbed her worries down, allowing her mind to work rapidly to divert her attention back to more pressing matters.

Fortunately, the man himself was too furious to notice anything, seemingly regaining the ability to talk.

He didn't waste his time using this new found ability to spit vitriol on her.

"You little bitch! _You_ dare to touch _my wand_?!" He hissed, his voice had gone deep and low from both his unadulterated fury and the promise to exact retribution. "You?! A mudblood?!"

Hermione whimpered when he forcefully pulled her head back by the roots of her hair, his lips pressing at the shell of her ear and growling in rage.

"How dare you sully my wand with your filthy hands?! Someone like you have no right to touch it! No right to use magic! I will make you bleed for what you tried to do! You piece of filth!"

 _Pretend to comply with him. Make him let his guard down._ _Arrogant men like him, who only desires power, usually underestimates his enemies._ A cold part of her said, abruptly pursing her lips tight to muffle her grunts of protest and pain when her hair was pulled cruelly back.

"I'm sorry! I'm so sorry!" Hermione cried out. She didn't struggle, but started sobbing instead... _fake_ sobbing. "I'm really sorry! I only wanted to escape! You must understand! I don't want to stay -"

"Silence!"

Agony exploded on the left side of Hermione's face the instant Tom Riddle smashed her head down on the floor. Her cheekbone felt like it had fractured at the impact.

She gasped, and then groaned shortly, when pain arched up from her cheek after she had tried to grimace. A few real tears fell from her eyes this time due to the pain, and perhaps frustration for failing to throw off the man behind her.

In that instance, Hermione had never felt something as strong and seething as hatred for any other human being like she felt for Tom Riddle. It made her stomach curdle from the strength of it, making her insides writhe with the desire to hurt, and hurt, and see her tormentor suffer the same fate as her.

She wanted to see him spilling rivers of blood on the ground, to taste his delicious pain on her tongue, smell the scent of his terror on his skin, and to hear him beg for her forgiveness until his pleas would become nothing but music to her ears.

Hermione wanted every bit of him destroyed, and him completely under her mercy.

But as fast as it came to her, the dark thoughts disappeared just as quickly. She didn't know where it came from to begin with. Yet it left her a bit shaken when she had thought about purposely hurting someone, even when that person had tortured her and continued to do so until now.

She was brought back to the present when Riddle suddenly said.

"You're sorry?! Do you think I want to hear your weak apologies?!" He snarled at her, jerking her head sharply up. "Tell me, mudblood... How much pain can you endure in one day? Because evidently, _I'm sorry_ is not enough to satisfy me after you just bit your bloody tongue, and as a result, injure me as well!"

He twisted her head so that he could look her in the eyes.

Hermione let him, still waiting for the best opportunity to attack, in the meantime she needed to catch her breath and recuperate.

With her eyes watering from the persistent throbbing pain of her scalp, she met her captor's eyes head-on, glaring into his pair of lapis lazuli orbs. The deepest blue eyes she had ever seen.

Once more, Riddle turned her head back and shoved the side of her face against the floor. Her left cheek smarting from the pressure as it was forced into.

"Nothing to say, mudblood? No other words to impart before we begin?"

Almost instantly, Hermione's throat tightened with dread, but at the same time, her eyes flashed with new found resolve.

The fight was not over yet. It had only just began.

 _Not every battle can be won through violence._ _Your body can be as good as any deadly weapon. Wield it as you might wield a sharp dagger. It is a hidden blade that no man can resist, utilize it to your advantage, strike with it when it is time to strike, and all your enemies shall drop dead like flies before they knew what struck them from behind._

That had what she had read about the history of Amazonian witches when it came to using their bodies as a weapon. Apart from being trained for combat, they were also honed in the bedroom arts that they utilized for spying and seduction mission. Perhaps Hermione could use this on Tom Riddle. She recalled how he had reacted to her, when she had accidentally pressed her body against his the first time he had tortured her.

He had been furious, yes, but that event had been enough to remind Hermione that beneath Tom Riddle's cold exterior, he was still a virile man, capable of lust and susceptible to succumb in the baser needs of men.

Hermione could use it to her advantage. With this unusual connection between them, and plus that uncontrollable attraction that sometimes rise up at an inconvenient time, she knew that Riddle wouldn't be able to stop himself from responding to her. It would be enough to distract and destabilize him.

Still, Hermione could only hope that it wouldn't undermine her judgement as well.

Even when the thought disturbed her, Hermione began bucking and writhing against him, purposely pushing her butt close to her nemesis groin.

"No, please don't! I will do anything you ask!" she cried out, finally setting her plans in motion.

Almost at once, Tom Riddle stiffened behind her.

She felt his thighs flexed involuntarily on either side of her and knew instantly that her plan must be working. Nonetheless, Hermione felt a bit disquiet at her observation.

To make it more convincing, Hermione start making sobbing noises and forcing tears into her eyes in spite of being mildly dehydrated. She felt the prickling of moisture in her eyes, but no more than that.

"If you want, I promise I will be good! I swear I will! Tell me what you want, and I will do it! Anything! Just please, please don't torture me!"

For nearly ten seconds, Riddle remained deathly silent and frozen at her back, his hands were tensed but remained implacable as he gripped her wrists and clumps of her hair.

Shortly…

"Anything?" he asked at last in an odd and quite whisper. A tone that was dangerous in itself.

_Very dangerous._

"You will do anything for me, if I ask you to?"

Hermione shivered. The inflection in Riddle's voice spoke volumes of what truly awaited her if she agreed.

Since she knew that catching him unawares was her one-way ticket to freedom, she had to agree.

"Yes, anything you want."

_Lies._

Suddenly, Tom Riddle laughed; a dark, derisive laughter that tickled Hermione's senses, making her pause temporarily as she listened to it.

 _That must be our odd connection talking._ She thought to herself, trying not to react when his laughter turned into low masculine chuckles.

Hearing the future Dark Lord laugh was like hearing the low rumbling thunderclouds in the skies. It was ominous and pernicious, yet... _captivating_ at the same time. It had a pleasant quality to it, and Hermione knew she would have stopped and listened to it at one point... If only it didn't belonged to the monster, who loved to hurt her so much…

"And what made you think that I couldn't just use an Imperius Curse on you to get what I want?" Riddle smoothly inquired, his voice dark as velvet; unfeeling and _acerbic_. "To compel you to do something without your permission? To control your mind as well as your body? After all, you are nothing but a weak, pathetic, little mudblood girl, with no one else to save you."

Hermione nearly panicked, when Riddle suddenly moved his hips down and pressed something hard against her.

 _Oh no, oh no,_ came Hermione's frantic thoughts, her heart thudding erratically in her chest.

There was in no doubt now that her action earlier had completely aroused him. If the bulge straining inside his trousers was any indication, then Hermione was stupid to think that she wouldn't get intimidated by something equally mortifying and horrifying like a man's erection.

She could sense him right through the thin fabric of her rags and the knickers she was wearing, and the feeling of his manhood right there made Hermione's stomach coil with dread, and something else that she couldn't identify.

_Calm down, calm down, this is just the part of the plan. You need him distracted from strapping you up like a piece of lamb and start torturing you. You need all your wits intact, and your limbs unrestrained. You won't have another opportunity like this to take him unawares unless you attack him without weighing the risk._

She didn't need to pretend to be shaken, when she was already unnerved as it is.

Nevertheless, she purposely made her voice sound weak when she said: "Ye - yes, you could always try to do that, but are you sure it's going to work?" Hermione's voice shook slightly as she decided to go along with the distasteful deed in using her nonexistent feminine wiles.

Gulping down the lump on her throat, she deliberately and slowly pushed herself against that hardness pressing against her.

She was rewarded by Riddle freezing above her once more.

Hermione hid the furious blush dusting her cheeks by placing her forehead on the floor. And with a boldness that even surprised her, she didn't stop wriggling against his length until she could hear Riddle's ragged breathing. "The Imperious Curse mi - might not even work like the other curses that - that you have tried on me…." she stammered, licking her dry lips and tasting blood there.

She had nearly forgotten about the wound she had inflicted upon herself. Nonetheless, despite the gruesome reminder, the blood didn't disturb her as much as it did.

"Oh? What made you so sure about that? Is it because you were truly responsible for casting this unknown spell on me, that you still kept on denying about?" she heard him murmur right next to her ear, his breath blowing wisp of hair against the side of her face that made Hermione shiver for a different reason.

Then, without warning, Riddle pried her legs apart with his knee, and pushed his leg directly between her thighs, hiking the hem of her rags up as easily as he had conjured it from the air.

Hermione stilled at his move, her insides knotting tightly.

"Don't try to light up a fire that you can't extinguish… _girl_ , or you will find yourself more than a burnt mark on your hand," he mocked in disdain, his knee slowly moving further up until he was rubbing against the very centre of her. "I am not easily seduced as you might think. So stop trying to fool me."

Hermione trembled, her body tensing. Fear and indecision warred within her mind, whether to go through with the plan or not.

"Now, have you finally regain your senses? Or do you still plan to play with fire, mudblood?" he taunted softly, _threateningly,_ toying with her by pressing his thigh dangerously close to her. Even with the cloth that separated their skin, he still felt hot as a furnace.

"And if I do?" she countered, pressing right back at him daringly and getting an immense satisfaction, when she heard his sharp inhalation.

In the end, Hermione leaped into the flames, prepared to get burnt and consumed by it, so long as she managed to escape after.

"Like I said, I will do anything you ask, just please don't hurt me."

"Why would I accept your service? As if you have something remarkable to offer, " Riddle remarked sardonically. "I have no need of servants. I can just as easily hire house elves for that if I wanted to. You, on the other hand….apart from being a mudblood, and too short and skinny for my taste. You are not even fit to be in my presence, much less serve me in any way -"

"But I do have something to offer," Hermione interrupted, thinking fast. _What the hell am I even saying? What can I really offer him?... Just bloody distract him!_

 _Men are visual creatures._ She vaguely recalled hearing Lavender Brown saying this to the girls during their sixth year. _One carefully chosen word or more, can drive a man mad with lust. The more sordid the detail is,_ _and you'll have them wrap around your finger._

"Really?" Hermione heard Tom Riddle sneered.

"Yes, I have," her response came out more of a squeak, feeling quite shocked when another leg began spreading her thighs wide open, while the other one was still purposely nudging her right _there_ that sent some hot and fiery jolts straight into her core from the contact.

Hermione trembled, biting her lips. _Don't be afraid. He's just toying with you... trying to intimidate and terrify you._

"What is it then?"

"I have a talented tongue!" she blurted out the first thing that came to her mind, which was what she remembered hearing some of the girls talking about in school.

Hermione knew the girls hadn't been talking about kissing, so this must be something that guys like most of all, something to do with the tongue, which she hadn't had the opportunity to explore with her boyfriend.

After she had said it, Tom Riddle seemed to have gone stiff as a board behind her.

Briefly, Hermione felt a surge of triumph at his reaction, feeling that she had accomplished the task to keep surprising him.

However, unexpectedly, a familiar rumbling laughter filled the small space between them once more, which had Hermione blinking stupidly in confusion.

Riddle let go of her hair. This would have been a good chance to try to escape from him but Hermione was completely flabbergasted.

The sound of laughter ceased, breaking Hermione from her state of absolute puzzlement.

"Yes, a talented tongue indeed, that you just nearly bit off," Tom Riddle said drolly, dark amusement lacing every syllable, followed by a scathing comment when he added,

"Merlin, mudblood! Stop embarrassing yourself! Your attempts to seduce me is beyond laughable."

Scarlet flooded Hermione's cheeks, which she tried to hide by covering them with the curtain of her hair. It seemed her inexperienced with men was not helping her with this situation.

She might as well forgo the thought of using her body to distract him completely, and use another tactic. Although some of the plan must be working because Riddle hadn't made a move yet to retrieve his wand, which was still lying on the floor near the wall.

In the past minutes, he had only been using his hands and strength to restrain her. Did Riddle get off at overpowering and dominating someone smaller than him? He probably did.

"How many men have you been with?" Tom Riddle asked her all of a sudden. "Five? Six?"

Hermione needn't ask to know that Riddle wasn't solely asking how many men she had dated.

"What is it to you?" she said warily, and was startled when she felt his leg began moving against her again, deliberately grazing over the entrance to her womb.

Apparently, Riddle hadn't given up in using this tactic to scare her out of her wits, and probably delighting in this kind of fear that he could incite from her.

But Hermione wasn't going to give in to his cruel games.

"Just answer the damn question," was Riddle's tight and curt reply, still rubbing against that part of her that elicited an unwanted current of pleasurable shocks.

"Three," she lied and started squirming for real this time, annoyed when her body instinctively started responding to him without her permission.

Hermione's stomach coiled with something akin to anticipation while intense heat began to pool deep within her belly.

 _Perhaps it's time to stop with this ruse._ Hermione thought as her body started to betray her. _I know he's doing this to prove his point, but this is just getting too dangerous...I must act fast before this could get out of hand._

 _No, not yet._ Some part of her objected. _It's not the right time._

_Then, when?_

Then, she felt Riddle's free hand on her hip. Large and masculine, like everything about him.

It felt like his hand was burning through the rags she was wearing.

"Only three?" he murmured close to her ear while his hand kneaded her hip.

"Yes," she managed to choke out, trying to ignore the sensation of his leg rubbing against her centre, which made Hermione feel unusually hot and getting damp down _there_ fast.

"Hmn, why am I even surprise? When you have such impure blood after all?"

She twitched, anger kindling inside her.

 _Yes, someone with impure blood, whom you happen to be pressed against with at the moment, you despicable son-of-a-cur!_ she wanted to snap back, and was about to start fighting her way out of him, when –

_No, wait!_

At once, Hermione froze. That cold part of her mind was back to counsel her yet again.

_Let him do this._

_Why?_

_His attention is almost completely diverted, and that could prove to be useful to you, if you let him –_

_No!_

_Don't be a fool! If you wanted to successfully escape from him, then use this means to keep him preoccupied with something else. He is already getting distracted as it is. Look how he failed to retrieve his wand immediately because of you. Make him lose all his concentration. Temptation is the most potent weapon a woman could use to a deadly effect. A man who can't have, whom he perceives as someone forbidden, is as destructive as any lethal poison. When it is applied correctly, it will silently destroy your opponent from within. A silent killer if you will, which you must utilize and learn first-hand._

After thinking it through, and weighing the pros and cons without delay, Hermione decided to set this new plan in motion.

Riddle's hand was moving again. There was a draft of air when he lifted the hem of her drab clothing up until she was exposed from the waist down, revealing her lower torso to his gaze; from her firm round buttocks covered by a pair of black satin knickers, her lean thighs, toned legs, skinny ankles, and of course, that part of her which had grown moist after Riddle had been stimulating it for a while.

The strange connection they had was potent as it was unyielding. It inevitably rose up and wrapped around their minds, holding them captive and made them unable to resist to its demands.

The atmosphere was still thick with violence, antagonism, and torment. It was a silent clash of negative emotions, a rioting and cloying energy; volatile and palpable. Yet the strong mysterious bond she and Riddle had, couldn't even differentiate what was between bloodlust and lust. For they were forced to disregard one emotion in favour of the other.

They were driven to acknowledge the thing they wanted to deny.

The call of _Lust._

Even when they were both bloody, dishevelled, slightly injured, and a bit sweaty from their brief scuffle, they didn't care. Pain connected them together. They share every bruises, scars, and other wounds that appeared on their body, but never the blood that clung to their skin.

Despite Hermione's muggleborn heritage, it didn't stop Tom Riddle from desiring her.

For approximately ten seconds, no one moved. All was quiet except for the sound of their harsh breathing. At the same time, a thick, electrifying tension now hanged over their heads, and around the room, like a cluster of lightning-streaked nimbus clouds.

"Why the sudden meek behavior, mudblood?" Riddle queried, almost suspiciously.

Hermione could feel his free hand skimming the curve of her butt, testing her resolve and trying to see if she was going to break under his touch.

Hermione didn't, even when he started stroking and caressing her butt, massaging it in firm measured strokes that had her stomach tightening in anticipation, and her thighs trembling with the need to rub them together and alleviate the ache building up at her core.

She could almost feel Riddle's piercing blue eyes staring at the back of her head.

She willed herself to remain where she was, stalwart and unmoving; and allowing him to do whatever he wanted to, even when all Hermione desired was to scoot away from him and ignore her body's traitorous response towards his masterful and sensual ministrations.

"I am doing this because that's what you would have wanted me to. I am all yours to command, so long as I won't be at the receiving end of either of your wand... or your hand."

Another lie. Hermione wasn't going to stay there long enough to see whether he was going to hurt her or not.

"Such a tempting offer, which I might need a day to consider...," she heard him drawl.

"However, in the meantime, why don't I see how far you are willing to play this game, hmn? Ready to get your hands burn, mudblood?" He said arrogantly, his voice taking a gruff quality to it, almost like a predatory growl.

Gradually, she sensed his hand drifting lower and lower, leaving a hot trail on Hermione's body. The warmth of his hand searing through her thin clothing.

 _Let him have a taste of you, but don't let him take you completely._ It came as a warning in her head.

"I'm certain that I'm not the one who's going to get their hands burn - ," she mumbled quietly... _too_ quietly for Riddle to hear.

 _You should know better than to leap into the fire with me, Riddle._ Hermione thought.

But no sooner than she thought of it, her breathing hitched when she felt the faintest brush of his fingers right against her sex.

Dazedly, Hermione heard Riddle's sibilant hiss the instant his fingers encountered her drenched knickers. She felt his hips rocking against hers in instinct, as if he wanted to take her right then and there.

Hermione trembled, reluctantly getting aroused.

In that moment, she knew that she had drawn his attention to her successfully, but it was not enough.

She needed him completely blinded.

Riddle began to probe her right through her undergarment; a shudder came unbidden through Hermione when she felt it.

Biting down her lower lip, she allowed him to touch her, even despite her misgivings. Yet the feeling of him right _there_ , made her want to squirm from the irrepressible sensation that it elicited from her.

"You're wet," was Riddle's blunt statement. His tone perfectly well-modulated, _controlled_ , but not enough to completely hide the strain that seeped out between his words.

If she hadn't heard him hissing not a moment ago, and felt him jerking his hips with an urgent need upon discovering how wet she was, Hermione would have thought that touching her hadn't affected him at all.

A blush threatened to suffuse her face from his blunt words, but Hermione repressed it. It wouldn't do any good to her if she acted like a blushing maiden, even if she was one.

"What an impressive deduction skills you have there, Sherlock," she retorted, using sarcasm as a shield and armour to sound as unaffected as he was.

Although her voice came out _tremulous_ , _stilted_ , and - and a bit _more_ than affected, especially when she sensed his fingers dancing over her, sliding up and down in between her nether lips in a slow, dizzying glides that had her stomach twisting into knots and making her entrance slick with moisture. Hermione was tempted to press her thighs together due to her increasing arousal.

"Insolent, little minx," Riddle suddenly growled right next to her ear before nipping her lobe.

She gasped, her thighs quivering as those fingers probe her a bit more, trying to splay her nether lips apart through her knickers, and searching her briefly until….

A long moan of pleasure was wrenched from Hermione's lips, when Riddle's questing hand finally found something between her folds.

He began to flick and tweak that sensitive spot with his thumb and forefinger, setting a frisson of pleasant jolts streaking straight into Hermione's core and making her inner walls twitched at the unexpected and erotic sensation.

Hermione's body tensed and trembled, feeling the throbbing need for something that she was just beginning to understand.

The feel of those fingers felt _incredibly good, so exquisite_ that Hermione had to purse her lips tightly and stop herself from letting out her noises of pleasure. She didn't want to give Riddle the satisfaction of hearing them.

Soon, a red haze began to creep into her mind, making it difficult for her to think straight. Her body felt hot and needy for something that involve Riddle ripping her knickers off and doing those naughty things she only heard from Lavander and the other girls.

To stop herself from inevitability losing her ability to think coherently, Hermione began to memorize a passage about brewing a particular potion.

"Add four measures of freshly-cut wild carrot on the cauldron, and stir clockwise three times..." she began, her voice quavering and closed to a whimper, her face flushing from the sensation of those fingers brushing against that sensitive part of her in slow, lazy circles.

Hermione had the terrible desire to press herself against those fingers, but suppressed it immediately.

" -Afterwards... crushed two - two bundles of howlet's wi - wing in the mortar, make it ugh..as fine as possible…" her ramblings came to an abrupt halt, attention momentarily diverted to the delightful feeling of those finger gliding over her entrance and her bundle of nerves in a up and down motion, followed by a rapid flick and whirl against her little pearl.

The heat in her belly intensified, her insides contracting and tightening... building up towards something inevitable...

However, determined not to succumb to the cloud of lust creeping into her mind, Hermione continued on.

"Ah -add the ingredient to the...to the cock –"

There was muffled, rumbling laughter that came from behind her, which could only mean that Riddle was listening.

" -I mean concoction and let it...ugh..ah, simmer for about three – hmn.. three minutes before...ngh.. slicing the blue cohosh root with argh-!"

Riddle pinched her hard right then, making her insides contract with blissful shocks and set her hips rocking involuntarily.

Fortunately, Hermione was able to stop her squeal of surprise in time.

"Are you seriously memorizing the instructions in how to brew a contraceptive potion right this second?" she heard him asked in between amusement, perplexity and fascination, while his fingers work on her clit fast, stroking her in a circular motion that had her insides fluttering spasmodically and her stomach twisting like a high-strung cord.

Hermione helplessly writhed against him.

"What else do you think I was doing?" came her pathetic, yet sarcastic response. It sounded more of a whimper as she tried to concentrate on her plan, and not the blissful sensations she was currently receiving. Hermione hadn't even realized that she had been reciting the instruction for making a contraceptive potion, until Riddle pointed it out to her. She was also kind of hoping that it would turn him off.

Unfortunately, it had the opposite effect from what she expected.

"Well, I don't know what book you've been reading," Riddle began, suddenly slowing down, and Hermione didn't know whether to feel slightly relieve or frustrated. " - but I have never heard of blue cohosh roots and wild carrot being used at the same time." he said, his fingers playing at the edges of her knickers.

At the feeling of him _there_ , Hermione's body instantly flushed with undeniable excitement. One tag to the side and Riddle would be able to touch her bare flesh.

Nonetheless, Hermione angrily stomped the feeling down, trying to focus more on what Riddle was saying.

"Those ingredients are already potent ingredients for disrupting sperm implantation and blocking progesterone synthesis -"

Hermione was boggled when she listened to him spout out scientific explanation. However, considering that he was raised as a muggle, he probably had some muggle education, and perhaps had read some Anatomy books in his spare time.

"You won't need both of them in the potion. Either you choose one of the ingredient, or you'll end up relatively - "

Hermione's tendency to correct someone, when they were wrong, reared its ugly head. Even though her mind was slightly muddled by those erotic fingers moving against her, Hermione still interrupted him.

"Actually, two of these potion have already proven to be effective when combined together. The effects would even last for a week if brewed properly," she said, trying to hide the tremor in her voice, even when her body felt like it was standing at the very edge of a precipice with Riddle holding her by the thread.

She vaguely noticed when Riddle stopped what he was doing to listen to her. She could tell that he was fascinated about this new information. "As what I've read in the updated copy of Esmeralda Ackerman's _N.E.W.T Level Potion Making._ It is generally well-known by Potioneers that the ingredient, blue cohosh root, had been added to amplify the certain effects of the contraceptive potion -"

"I've read her book, mudblood, but I don't recall her having recently updated it."

 _Oh, shit!_ Hermione thought in alarm, suddenly realizing that the book she was referring to hadn't even been published yet.

Hermione burst out into peals of nervous laughter to hide her mistake, purposely pressing her soaked knickers to draw the bastard's attention back to what he had been previously doing.

Riddle remained still.

For one horrifying and heart-thumping moment, Hermione was afraid Riddle had seen through her lie, but her fear was unfounded when he started touching her again.

She shivered, deliberately grinding herself into him and keeping his attention _there_ , while she said: "I must have read it from a different book then. Not Ackerman's..."

"Perhaps you did…" came his cool statement, his fingers grazing lightly against her nub repeatedly, which had Hermione's inner walls quivering from the blissful shocks it generated.

"I would have recalled everything what I have read from specific books, mudblood, and even quote every damn thing from a certain page - word for word, but apparently not you."

 _What an arrogant git!_ Hermione inwardly bristled, but she let that one go.

"Should we be talking about books and potions right now?" she said, ignoring the fact how her thighs trembled while the liquid heat at the pit of her belly seemed to intensify when Riddle continued to touch her sensually.

At last, Hermione knew exactly when she was going to attack him, but she needed to lead him there carefully, or he might notice what she was about to do.

"Why don't you tell me, _girl_? You were the one mumbling about potion instructions while my fingers were preoccupied with your cunt."

Hermione forced herself not to blush after hearing his lewd statement.

"Was I successful in ruining your fun?" she was able to snap out, despite the dizzy feeling she got when Riddle proceeded to play with the edge of her knickers, running a finger at the side of it, and brushing the barest of skin.

And when he did it again, Hermione had to suck a lungful of breath.

"Oh, that was your plan all along?" he inquired, his voice turning low and gravelly as his finger skimmed over the edge of the cloth. He took an experimental dip beneath her knickers and promptly felt her moist, naked flesh.

They both shuddered at the contact. Hermione's hips bucking against him without her even realizing it.

Riddle's fingers retreated. She listened to him breathing heavily, and knew that he was trying to control himself and the entire situation they were in.

"No, you didn't ruin the fun," he informed her, his breathing had turned to heavy pants, which she could hear just right next to her ear.

A moment later, he molded his large body against her back, flooding her with his clean-shaven scent and his intoxicating, sandalwood musk.

Hermione felt like she was about to drown from it. It made her head spin and compelled her to want his body closer to hers.

"Actually, I had this insatiable desire to have your mouth put to use, other than memorizing potion instruction, of course."

His fingers went back to what it was doing, alternately whirling around her sensitive nub teasingly and skimming at the edge of her knickers.

"Really? What other uses would that be?" she manage to say, though there was a moan and a groan lodged inside her throat somewhere that made her sound like she was a croaking frog.

Drawing nearer, Riddle murmured into her ear, "Your mudblood mouth wrapped around my cock," and to emphasis his point, he thrust his hips against hers, making her blatantly aware how aroused he was.

Hermione's ears burned red at Riddle's coarse words and action, though she compelled herself not get flustered.

Instead, she said: "Try it, and you won't have a cock to speak off soon."

Riddle's response was by giving her that low, seductive chuckles that Hermione had to grudgingly admit, sounded far too sexy for her own sanity.

Later, she mentally slapped herself for even thinking it in the first place.

"Come now, mudblood. Wouldn't you want to have a taste of someone far more superior than you?"

_Him? Superior?.. He's so full of himself!_

However, in an even tone, Hermione said to him: "No," before spreading her legs apart to accommodate him while adding.

"But you can take me right _there,_ if you want."

 _Come closer and have a taste of your own poison, you despicable snake._ Hermione thought venomously, throwing the bait.

She was rewarded by a needy nuzzle and a bite on the side of her neck. Riddle's rasping breath skittering over her skin, whereas his fingers now brushed insistently at edges of her knickers.

Then, as if getting frustrated with the cloth that separated their skin, Riddle impatiently tagged her knickers aside.

A draft of cool air immediately hit Hermione's exposed sex, but Riddle was already pressing his fingers back into her moist heat and covering her with his hand.

His long fingers met bare skin.

In a flash, Hermione shuddered with an unholy delight, a riot of explicit jolts generating from the contact as Riddle parted her moist folds with ease, and started grazing and drawing, tortuous circles on her swollen nub until she was reduced to a writhing mess against his merciless hand in no time.

She vaguely heard the bastard behind her growling in approval from his heightened desire. With the use of his mouth, Riddle suckled and licked the column of her neck hungrily.

 _Ugh...Merlin, that feels_ _ **sooo gooood!**_ Hermione mentally moaned, chewing on her lower lip, unable to stop her hips from bucking towards those skillful fingers without her volition.

Riddle had his teeth scraping the side of her neck, where her pulse point was, nipping and nibbling on her creamy white skin.

"You like that, don't you?" He whispered darkly in obvious need, still rolling his fingers over that sensitive nub in deliberate slowness, drawing out the pleasure and anticipation, and completely driving her insane with lust.

"No, actually... I'm wriggling my hips because... because I - I have this itch that I can't scratch," she didn't know how she managed to sound sarcastic between wanting to moan out loud, and trying to stifle the whines that threatened to rise up due to the bastard's maddening fingers, but she actually did.

It was a great feat in it itself. Hermione congratulated herself from not acting like a rambunctious vixen.

Riddle seemed to take her sarcasm in stride because he shortly said, almost mocking in his tone: "An itch, hmn? Where is it? Is it around... _here_?" and he was suddenly at her entrance, splaying her wet folds open and promptly sliding his finger into her slick, virginal passage, stretching her for the first time.

She heard his guttural groan when his digit invaded her slick entrance. Her inner walls convulsed tightly around him.

At the same time, a half-moan and half-whimper forced its way out from Hermione's lips before she could stop it, her body trembling at the new sensation of his finger inside her.

Hermione could tell that Riddle was losing it, his control was slipping as he began to move his finger in and out of her in blinding lust. She listened to the sound of his accelerated breathing as his finger stretched her. The sticky and wet sound of him entering her was so _odd_...and so _sudden_.

One minute they were grappling on the floor, and now she had Riddle's finger buried deep inside her. She was still wondering how it happened - other than him deliberately putting it there of course. She was just a bit confused how everything culminated to that point.

Still, this was all part of her plan… _right?_

Yet the connection they have was proving to be stronger than she realized - and quite _troublesome_. It was humming in her veins, thundering in her heart, and enveloping her mind in a red haze which prevented her from thinking rationally.

Now, all she could think about was her captor's magical abilities to make her lost all coherent thought, like he had just done a Confundus charm on her with just a slip of a finger.

Hermione's stomach coiling tight at the overwhelming pleasure it evoked inside her.

"You told me you had already slept with three men," came Riddle's hoarse and taut comment as he pumped into her slowly, doing this beckoning gesture every time he sink his finger into her heated core.

Hermione bit her lower lip to stop herself from whining shamelessly and pressing her body back towards Riddle in wild abandon.

"If you did, their cocks must be...what? Made of thin-stick wands? Because you barely even stretched around my finger. So why don't you tell me the truth, mudblood?!"

"I did tell you the truth...You asked how many men I've been with, which I assumed you meant how many I dated, and not how many men I slept with, " she managed to lie, her mind could hardly think at the moment, not when she felt a jolt after jolt of unadulterated pleasure every time Riddle ran a thumb over her clit and pumped right back into her core.

"How many men then?"

"How many do you think? You're already touching me, why don't you feel for yourself?"

Riddle let out a strangled noise that sounded between a groan and a growl, his hips pressing against her tightly and Hermione knew then that the thin thread he held over his control finally shredded to pieces.

_Good...Shit!_

"Merlin, girl! You might as well tell me you are a virgin, than skirt around the truth!" Riddle hissed angrily, and with unbridled lust, slipped exactly three fingers inside her and started pumping into her hard and fast.

Hermione couldn't help but let out a weak whimper, wriggling helplessly with a look of discomfort written all over her face at the stretching feeling. However, soon after, it was shortly replaced by a look of unimaginable bliss as she got used to the sensation of those expert fingers moving inside her moist heat.

 _Merlin, that feels good!_ She could feel that familiar coiling at the pit of her belly, getting stronger by the seconds as those fingers drove into her. The feeling of his three digits stretching her, as well as his pace, setting her veins on fire while something within her began to unravel and uncoil.

It tore the last remained of Hermione's inhibition. She felt like she was about to combust into smithereens.

"The more you lie, the more I want to punish you for it," she heard him say in a voice thickened with desire, and still with a hint of anger.

"I think we both know that you wouldn't believe anything I say even if I told you the truth," she choked out. A flush of intense heat burn straight through her that made her grew damp. She met his thrusting fingers, almost as angrily as he was, apparently.

Riddle's fingers had stopped momentarily to do that come-hither gesture that had Hermione arching her spine the second his fingers pressed something erogenous inside her. It sent acute and exquisite pleasure racing through her veins that ultimately tore an unbidden cry from her.

"Oh - oh Merlin!"

With persistence, those fingers massaged the hypersentitive spot. Riddle drove in and out of her five times before massaging her again, doing it repeatedly until Hermione could feel her inner walls contracting spasmodically, and her body tensing as something primitive and raw took control of her body.

With her defensive walls disintegrating, Hermione pressed back hurriedly and desperately towards the man, who was both her tormentor and her enemy.

Yet for that moment alone, those fingers were her salvation.

Mewling with unrestrained passion, she allowed Riddle to do anything what he wants with her, nearly feeling faint from the exquisite pleasure, when his thumb worked on her clit

"Tell me when you are about to come,'' Riddle whispered to her with a sense of urgency that she hadn't heard before. His hungry mouth, bruising against her skin, marking her with a smattering of kisses and bites on her neck. "Tell me -"

Hermione didn't know what the fuck he was talking about. So she said to him.

"How can I come?! When I'm fucking right here!" she all but mewled, her body quaking while she felt her inner muscles clenching tighter and tighter around Riddle's fingers.

A second later, she began to spasm uncontrollably, a cry rising from her throat when –

All of a sudden, Riddle let go of her wrists. And using his unoccupied hand, he ripped the neckline of her rags as easy as paper, and unexpectedly sunk his teeth at the juncture of her neck, though not deep enough to draw blood.

Pain and pleasure lit her body up and she instantly went up in flames. Added with Riddle beckoning inside her and putting pressure on that erogenous region, Hermione came for him _Hard_ , trashing and screaming and cursing him.

" _ **Damn you to hell, Riddle**_!" she screamed in parseltongue while her body was wracked by powerful and delicious shudders, her free hands clawing at the floor while she continued to meet Riddle's thrusting fingers with the desperate and erratic jerks of her hips.

Her spine had arched up when her body combusted, exploded, detonated like she had been doused with hellfire. She vaguely heard Riddle hissing in parseltonngue the second her inner muscles twitched and spasm around him, followed by a rush of wild and fiery heat rushing in every part of her body, making every cell and nerves burn, and tingle, and awash by overwhelming and raw ecstasy.

Afterwards, she slumped bonelessly to the floor, feeling dazed and drugged by endorphins.

However, she was brought back to the present by the feeling of Riddle abruptly withdrawing his fingers from her and heard the unmistakable sound of him unbuckling his belt.

"I'm going to take you now, mudblood."

_Uh-oh…_

The thick, red fog that clouded her mind dispersed.

Sharp clarity settling into her, along with the feeling of hatred and the desire to hurt.

It resurfaced into her consciousness stronger than ever before.

_**MAKE YOUR MOVE NOW!** _

That part of her shouted, and without further prompting, Hermione was on the move before her brain could process what she was doing.

With Riddle too busy pulling his pants down, and still blinded with lust, Hermione half-twisted underneath him and whipped her elbow back behind her, putting as much force behind it as she could muster. The chains on her wrists clanging loudly.

She heard a satisfying smack, followed by a string of curses as her elbow hit Riddle squarely on the side of his face.

"Why you filthy little –!"

However, Hermione didn't stop there because she was already twisting once more. Riddle had slightly lurked back when she had hit him, allowing her plenty of room to manoeuvre without him trying to restrain her.

A moment later, she was already scrambling on her feet with Riddle not far behind, but Hermione kicked him in the chest to keep him down. Riddle slammed unceremoniously on the floor with his trousers still a bit lower down his hips and his buckles unclasped.

By the time Riddle tried to sit up from the floor, Hermione was already standing behind his back and gripping the chains in front of her.

Judging from the bulge in his half-undone trousers, Hermione could see he was still aroused, but definitely getting pissed at her.

Not giving him the opportunity to attack her.

In a flash, she flung the chains around Riddle's neck, placed both her knees on his back for a better leverage; at the same time, she twisted the chains tautly and started pulling _**hard**_.

"Tell me Riddle," she began calmly and coldly, tightening her grip around the chains. "How many seconds do you think it would take before you lose consciousness from asphyxiation?"

Riddle started struggling then and shouting obscenities at her, hands grabbing for the chains that was trying to strangle him and started tagging it away from his windpipe.

"You fucking bitch! I will kill you for this!"

Riddle was stronger than her, and so she wasn't really surprised when he was able to put both his fingers in between the chains and tried to pull it away from his probably aching neck.

Hermione just pulled harder, leaning further back and placing a foot in between Riddle's shoulder blades for a firmer hold.

She strained.

Unbeknownst to her, Hermione's eyes began to glow an eerie yellow as she watched Riddle fought against her.

With cat-like eyes that were cold and cruel, she forcefully pulled the chains back hard and twisted sharply.

* * *

**TO BE CONTINUED...**

* * *

 

War had come, but the King didn't have enough gold from the royal coffers to feed his hungry army.

And when men became desperate, they prey upon those who they deemed weak and defenceless.

And like the hungry wolves that came from the mountains, they descended upon her Village with the intent to take whatever they could get.

She could never forget that fateful night when she had lost everything.

The night when the grassy plains had ran red with the blood from those who had been slain by the King's men.

Screams of terror and cries for help had filled up the entire valley, when the Baron's garrison had descended upon her peaceful Village.

They came with the thundering hooves of their horses, the clangour of heavy armour and steel, and their loud demands for fresh provisions.

"The supply wagons had been attacked by the enemy forces before it could reach us," the Baron had explained to the Villagers during that time. "Our food supply is running low. Hence, we had come here to ask for your aid and resupply whatever we needed."

 _Whatever we needed,_ seemed to include taking women by force.

And when some of the Villagers had risen up against the Baron, they were put to the sword.

A slaughter had soon followed after.

The green grass of the Valley had turned scarlet.

A day after, the crows and other birds of prey had swooped in with their black wings flapping with the wind fouled by the scent of death and destruction.

**oooOOOooo**

She watched when her father was killed first, a sword through the back by one of the Knights, who was wearing blue painted armour.

The Knight had laughed then, a mirthless laughter when her father had fallen on his knees, choking on his own blood but still begging for the lives of his wife and children to be spared.

Her father's words a gurgle of blood, nearly incoherent while a scarlet stain had blossomed from the wound on his back, where the Knight had driven his sword through and straight out of her father's chest.

The Knight had responded to her father's pleas by cleaving him in half, sliding the long sword up until her father was torn in half from waist to skull. Entrails spewing form the torn torso, showing sawed bones, organs and flesh that ought not to be seen.

Still she had watched it happened. Unable to do anything.

_Terrified._

_Hopeless._

**oooOOOooo**

She watched still when they had turned their attention to her little baby brother next.

They had plucked the three month old infant from her mother's breast, and she remembered how her mother had screamed with tears running down her eyes, when the men had proceeded to smash her brother's skull unto the ground.

She could never forget her brother's wails, and how it had abruptly stopped when his soft head had simply imploded.

 _ **THUD-THUD-THUD**_ It had sounded, when her brother's head had caved inwards, blood splattering the ground. His left eye popping out from its socket, along by a pulpy, gooey substance that spurted out from his cracked skull.

Her infant brother was dead the moment he had stopped wailing.

**oooOOOooo**

She hadn't known what terror was until she saw the men took her mother and her eight year old sister.

In silent horror, she had watched when the six men had ripped the clothes off from her mother and sister's bodies. The men had laughed and laughed, when they had shoved them to the ground, and did something to them that had made her sister and mother screamed and sobbed in pain.

Blood had ran between her sister's leg after, heavy and thick when the men had climb on top of her, one after the other with her sister screaming in pain, her fingernails broken and bloodied as she clawed on the dirt covered ground to try to escape from them.

Yet she never did.

When it was over, they had her throat slit from ear to ear.

By the time her sister was killed, her mother's head had already been impaled on the spike just next to her headless and naked body.

Then, the men had set the house on fire.

She didn't moved from her hiding spot until the garrison had left, and until everything had burnt to the ground.

It was by some miracle, she had survived.

The same reason those men hadn't seen her hiding in the corner while they had done those things to her family.

She had been invisible to them.

Because she had wished it so…

And now, she wished she hadn't.

**oooOOOooo**

The Villagers had been a peaceful folks…

Now, they were gone.

Their existence erased.

Perished from the fire and steel that had ran red.

Except her…

Always her…

She had survived…

Covered in blood and gore, her clothing half burnt while soot smeared across her face, she had stood there alone… The bodies of her father sliced in half, her mother's head impaled on a spike, her sister with a gaping wound on her neck and blood between her thighs, and of her little brother, whose head had been crushed...

Their corpses had burnt along with everything in the Village.

And with eyes empty and downcast…she had stood there in the middle of the carnage where the corpses of her family had lain, while the house that held so many happy memories, had been turned to smoking ruins.

Her entire family dead..

Her Village destroyed..

She was all alone…all alone in a sea of despair…

**oooOOOooo**

That day, her power had awaken…

Along with hatred and revenge.

Hatred for the Reigning Monarchs, the nobility and the entire Kingdom.

She would stop at nothing until she had everything destroyed.

Mortar by mortar, stone by stone, she would razed their castles and lands to the ground, like what they had done to her Village and her family…

**oooOOOooo**

She was alone.

Yet she didn't need anyone…

She didn't need it…

Why would she?

**oooOOOooo**

She was darkness..

A shadow..

A ghost…

She was…

**_Death and Destruction_.**

**oooOOOooo**

Not all Noble Knights of the Kingdom were honourable…

And the King was not benevolent…

This she knew… when she had watched those Knights and the King's men burned her Village down to the ground, razed it to ruin until a blanket of smoke and ashes lit up the night skies.

She knew it then…

She still knew it now…

She had been five when it happened.

Now, she was fourteen... and ready…

Ready for the hunt to begin…

**oooOOOooo**

One starless night, she appeared from the swirling fog that blanketed the moat that surrounded the castle.

Like a wraith, with bellowing dark cloak and glowing yellow eyes behind the cowl that hid her face, she strode forward. The fog parting and whirling around her as she walked towards the drawbridge that had been pulled up for the night.

"Halt! Who goes there?!"

The sentry stationed at the parapets of the castle called out.

She looked up, and saw two men standing there with their bows drawn.

From the corners of her eye, she saw the flickering movements behind the murder holes and the arrow slits of the battlements, and knew that there were more than a dozen men with their arrows aimed at her figure.

"What is your purpose here, stranger?!" One of them asked, but she didn't deigned them an answer because she was gone in a flash.

_**CRACK** _

She appeared behind them with her daggers drawn and aiming for their jugular.

They didn't stand a chance against her.

Blood sprayed as her sharp blades sliced their necks opened, the sentries cry of surprise instantly turned into a wet gurgle from the blood that gushed out from their mouths and the fatal wounds on their throats.

No alarm was raised.

But she was not finished yet, she needed to eliminate every sentry to prevent them from raising the alarm and rousing the entire castle.

And with a _**CRACK**_ , she disappeared and appeared again somewhere, pinpointing the location where she had sensed people.

"What the -!" said a man who had instantly turned around upon hearing her arrival.

There were four of them this time.

"What in heavens -! Who are you?!"

"An intruder!"

"Quick! Raised the alarm!"

They shouted and exclaimed, hurriedly taking out the swords hanging from their hips.

She sauntered towards them, her steps quiet and measured. Her eyes glowing fiercely from behind her hood and the cowl that covered half of her face.

Then, without warning, she was streaking towards them, her form a blur with her daggers drawn in front of her.

"SHIT!"

"Get him!"

"Sound the fuckin'-"

_**CRACK** _

She appeared above them, whirling horizontally mid-air and slashing downwards with her deadly daggers out. Her cloak whipping sharply from the movements.

A splatter of scarlet hit her squarely in the face and hands. A second later, two heads rolled off from shoulders and tumbled towards the ground with a loud and wet _**thunk**_. It was soon followed by the sight and sound of bodies falling down.

She landed in a crouch on the walkway, now slick with blood from the fresh corpses.

"AARRGGHH!" one man was screaming while holding his severed arm, blood pouring from the stump like a scarlet drizzle.

The man who remained uninjured was shouting, "STAY BACK!" when she made a moved towards him.

She paused for a second, cocking her head to the side. Flicking the dagger and holding it at the tip, she drew her hand back by the elbow, and threw.

The dagger flipped in the air for second, just as the man was shouting.

"STAY THE FUCK -!"

The blade embedded itself in the man's forehead, instantly killing him. The dead man slumped into the ground.

Suddenly, the sound of loud ringing pierced the silence of the castle.

_**CLANG-CLANG-CLANG-CLANG** _

Someone was ringing the alarm, apparently they had seen her attacking the sentry's station in that area.

_**CLANG-CLANG-CLANG-CLANG** _

Not planning to waste more time, she used her magic to kill the last one.

 _ **Incendio**_ , she thought.

The man who had been whimpering and holding his arm, burst into flames and started screaming.

With another loud _**CRACK**_ , she was gone and moving through the castle. She met a lot of guards on the way.

She killed and butchered those who tried to fight her.

She was merciless.

There was no point in being subtle.

Death was coming to those who had escaped justice.

Now, she was bringing justice to them.

She would kill those who had been responsible for the death and destruction of her home.

They will know what terror felt like... and what horror taste like...

**oooOOOooo**

That very night, the castle halls had bathe with blood.

The walls splattered and dripped with scarlet.

They did not know her name then…

But soon, they will…

For her name was **Morgana le Fay.**

And she had come to destroy their Kingdom.

* * *

**OUTAKES:**

In that moment, he looked like he was torn between hurting her and fucking her, between biting her and kissing her. However, he chose neither because he was suddenly ripping her rags from neck to hem.

The tearing sound it made set Hermione's heart racing like a jackrabbit caught in a trap.

He tore the rest of rags from her shoulders and threw it over to the side, his blazing blue eyes instantly looking at her bared form only covered by her black, satin underclothes.

Hermione wanted to cover herself, but she couldn't, not with her wrists manacled tightly above her.

With his eyes like burning sapphires, he moved towards her bra, his hand going behind her back.

A whole minute later...

"What in Salazar's name is this contraption you are wearing?" He asked in frustration as his hand tried to find the clasp of her bra.

It wasn't there of course, because it was at the front, a hook carefully hidden. No bra exists like that in the 1950's from what Hermione had gathered.

"It's called a bra, or in other word, a brassiere," she responded sarcastically, "Are you sure you've done this before?"

"Shut up, mudblood!"

"Don't worry, Riddle. You'll have plenty of time to remedy your lack of exper–"

That's when he kissed her, forcing her back against the wall with his lips smashing into her in a punishing and bruising kiss. His other hand tagging at her knickers with such force that he ripped that as well, and then he was pressing himself between her thighs.

And...

_Fuck! That felt good!_

**oooOOOooo**

She heard his guttural groan when his digits invaded her slick entrance. Her inner walls convulsed tightly around him.

" _ **Salazar's balls!''**_

If Riddle tried to hide the expletive using parseltongue, then he completely failed. Hermione understood him perfectly. Salazar Slytherin would be rolling in his grave when he discovers that his heir had just mentioned his unmentionables.

_Such lack of respect to his ancestors._


End file.
